COLUMBIA  LIBRARIES  OFFSITE 
AVERY  FINE  ARTS  RESTRICTED 


AR01402412 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2013 


http://archive.org/details/glimpsesofgothamOOmack 


SECOND     EDITION 


RICHARD  K    FOX. 


WITH    NEW    ILLUSTRATIONS 


IE*  IGtbrtH 


SEYMOUR    DURST 


"t '  ~Tort  nle>uw    ^Am/terckm  oj>  Je  l/Lanhatarus 


When  you  leave,  please  leave  this  book 

Because  it  has  been  said 
"Ever  thing  comes  t'  him  who  waits 

Except  a  loaned  book." 


am  ky  ak(  inn  ctural  and  Fine  Arts  Library 

(ill  l  ol  Sl  YMOl  K  B.  DURSl  Ol  I)  York  LIBRARY 


JtCfc 

vw 

\3S 
.hi 


GLIMPSES  OF  GOTHAM 


AHD 


City    Characters. 


BY  SAMUEL  A,  MACKEEVER, 

THE    AMERICAN    CHARLES    DICKENS 


PUBLISHED    AT    THE 

NATIONAL  POLICE  GAZETTE  OFFICE, 


NET7  YOKE. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1880,  hj 

RICHARD  K.  FOX, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Samuel  Anderson  Mackeever, 

HIS    EIFE    AUD    WHAT    HE    DID    III    IT. 


In  presenting  to  the  public  this  series  of  sketches,  whose  appearance  originally  in  the  National,  Police 
Gazette  achieved  immediate  and  pronounced  success,  the  publisher  is  actuated  by  a  desire  to  rescue  from 
the  oblivion  into  which  similar  fugitive  works  inevitably  fall,  some  of  the  best  productions  of  a  pen  so  full  of 
present  performance  and  of  future  promise,  that  its  loss  leaves  a  vast  gap  in  local  literature.  Samuel 
Anderson  Mackeever  was  a  historic  figure  in  American  journalism.  He  was  a  journalist  only  in  the  sense 
that  his  labors  were  in  the  busy  field  of  newspaperdom,  instead  of  in  that  superior  walk  of  literature  in 
which  far  inferior  men  win  more  extended  fame,  and  to  high  rank  in  which  he  held  the  clearest  title :  that  of 
genius.  Although  his  duties  frequently  imposed  such  tasks  upon  him,  ho  was  by  no  means  a  reporter,  in 
the  accepted  sense  of  the  word.  He  was  a  thoughtful  student  of  human  nature,  an  artist  whose  quick  eye, 
keen  natural  wit  and  fertile  ancy  combined  to  direct  a  master  hand,  which  gilded  all  it  touched.  What 
Gavarni  and  Dickens  did  with  pencil  and  pen  for  the  two  great  cities  of  the  Old  "World,  he  performed  for  the 
metropolis  of  the  New.  His  works  constitute  a  gallery  of  word  pictures  which  paint  New  York  as  it  had 
never  been  painted  before.  Beaming  with  light,  sombre  with  shadow,  merry  in  the  May  sunshine,  shud- 
dering in  the  February  sleet,  the  varying  phases  of  its  teeming  life,  waking  and  sleeping,  fair  and  foul,  from 
cellar  to  garret,  from  boudoir  (o  brothel,  move  by  in  a  panorama  vivid  in  local  color,  strong  and  symmetri- 
cal in  form,  instinct  with  the  vitality  which  grows  only  under  the  artist  hand.  Few  nooks  and  erannies  of 
either  the  town  or  the  ways  and  doings  of  its  people,  escaped  the  busy  chronicler.  During  the  past  three 
years  his  department  in  the  National  Police  Gazette  and  the  third  column  of  the  front  page  of  the  Evening 
Telegram  became  the  medium  through  which  the  general  public  found  daily  and  weekly  introduction  to 
itself.  That  they  did  not  object  to  the  way  in  which  the  master  of  ceremonies  performed  his  work,  the 
popularity  of  the  sketches  proved.  It  was  not,  however,  till  death  rang  down  the  curtain,  that  the  world  at 
large  knew  anything  of  the  man  whose  pen  had  procured  them  so  many  pleasant  hours,  and  even  then  it 
was  only  through  brief  and  necessarily  more  or  less  incorrect  obituaries  in  the  daily  press. 

In  consideration  of  this  fact,  nothing  could  be  more  appropriate  as  an  introduction  to  this  little  volume 
than  the  story  of  its  creator's  life. 

Samuel  Anderson  Mackeever  used  to  describe  himself  as  born  in  Harrisburg,  Pennsylvania,  by  the 
accident  of  a  railway.  His  father  and  mother  were  on  their  way  to  Philadelphia,  on  September  16,  1848, 
when  the  event  occurred.    It  cost  his  mother  her  Life. 

His  early  years  were  spent  principally  in  Philadelphia,  where  his  father  for  a  long  term  filled 
the  position  of  Superintendent  of  the  House  of  Refuge.  From  time  to  time  during  his  life,  there 
would  crop  up  in  the  publications  to  which  the  dead  journalist  was  contributor  the  names  cf 
full  blown  criminals  whom  he  recollected  as  mere  midgets  of  villainy  when  he  made  the  round  of 
the  jail  at  his  father's  side.  Once  the  writer  and  himself  went  into  a  Nassau  street  restaurant  to 
invite  nightmare  with  a  Bohemian  compromise  between  a  v<  ry  late  supper  and  early  breakfast 
after  a  hard  night's  work.  A  flashily  dressed  young  female  with  red-rimmed  eyes  and  tear  stained 
cheeks,  and  two  men  were  eating  oysters  at  the  next  table.  It  was  a  mockery  of  revelry  such  as 
',ne  rarely  sees.  One  of  the  men,  a  handsome,  though  not  prepossessing  young  fellow,  was  talking  very 
loudly,  cracking  rank  jokes  which  no  one  replied  to.    But  he  had  his  right  wrist  handcuffed  to  the  other's'left, 


J.1FE  OF  SAMUEL  ANDERSON  MACKEEVER. 


half  concealed  by  the  table  cloth.  They  were  a  western  detective  and  a  murderer  whom  he  had  hunted 
down  in  New  York,  and  captured  in  the  course  of  a  spree  in  which  he  and  his  paramour  were  squandering 
the  spoil  of  his  crime.  The  two  men  were  the  developments  of  two  Philadelphia  House  of  Refuge  boys. 
One  had  turned  thief,  the  other  thief-taker,  and  one  was  leading  his  old  comrade  to  the  gallows.  Mr.  Mae- 
keever  was  recognized  by  botb,  and  over  the  beer-dabbled  table,  with  the  maudlin  harlot  sobbing  as  she 
drank  herself  into  hysterics,  the  murderer  and  the  police  spy  toasted  the  man  whom  they  remembered  as  their 
old  jailer's  son,  and  whom  both  knew  and  admired  in  his  profession.  The  last  act  of  the  assassin's  xife  was 
to  address  the  rude  but  graphically  written  story  of  his  career  of  crime,  on  the  eve  of  his  execution,  to  New 
York,  with  the  expressed  hope  that  Mr.  Mackeever  would  have  it  published  "over  my  name."  The  thief's 
vanity  lived  still  at  the  foot  of  the  gibbet  ! 

The  name  of  Samuel  Anderson  Mackeever  figured  on  the  roll  of  the  Philadelphia  High  School  at  an  age 
when  other  boys  are  usually  still  puzzling  their  tangled  wits  over  minor  studies.  He  graduated  early,  and 
with  such  honor  that  his  diploma  was  signed  by  the  entire  Faculty  of  the  "People's  College,"  as  Phila- 
dclphians  are  fond  of  calling  it.  He  had  applied  for  a  position  in  the  First  National  Bank  of  Philadelphia, 
a:  d  when  he  went  to  interview  the  directors  carried  his  diploma  in  its  tin  case  as  the  best  recommendation 
he  could  advance.  It  proved  such.  He  commenced  a  commercial  career  which  ended  in  his  becoming  re- 
ceiving-teller of  the  bank,  a  post  he  only  left  to  embark  in  journalism. 

In  one  of  his  graphic  sketches,  "  The  Bank  Clerk,"  occurs  a  paragraph  which  probably  is  a  reflection  of 
lis  own  experience  during  this  portion  of  his  career  : 

"The  bank  clerk  lives  constantly  in  an  atmosphere  of  luxury.  The  men  he  meets  during  the  day  are 
monied  individuals,  from  the  millionaire  notch  down.  If  he  is  in  the  cash  department  he  handles  greenbacks 
so  constantly  that  the  bills  passing  through  his  hands  actually  lose  their  monetary  value,  and  become  to 
him  as  so  much  merchandise. 

"  His  work  is  light  and  he  is  well  paid  forit.  The  situation  is  a  life  one  if  he  behaves  himself,  and  aa  the 
old  roosters  drop  from  their  stools  into  their  coffins  he  advances  along  the  line  of  promotion. 

"In  his  leisure  hours  the  bank  clerk  is  a  great  society  or  sporting  man,  just  as  his  fancy  determines. 
He  lives  up  town  in  a  first-class  boarding  house.  He  is  very  particular  about  his  dress,  generally  wearing 
the  English  style  of  clothes  which  the  brokers  affect.  If  he  is  not  calling  upon  the  ladies  in  the  evening  he  is 
at  the  theatre,  or  in  some  billiard  hall  where  he  has  a  private  cue..  Too  frequently  he  doesn't  get  home 
until  very  late,  and  when  this  happens  it  is  necessary  for  him  to  have  a  couple  of  brandies  and  soda  in  the 
morning  before  he  can  get  his  hand  in  steady  writing  trim." 

The  line  of  promotion  advanced  too  slowly  for  the  ardent  fancied,  blonde  receiving  teller,  who  found  his 
bright  intelligence  handicapped  by  the  rigid  rules  of  business.  During  his  clerical  career  he  had  two 
passions.  One  was  the  stage,  the  other  literature.  To  gratify  the  first  he  joined  a  leading  amateur  com- 
pany. The  other  found  employment  in  the  production  of  various  fanciful  sketches  contributed  to  the  local 
press.  HiB  first  story  which  ever  found  its  way  into  print  was  identical  in  plot  with  the  chief  motive  of 
"Wilkie  Collins'  "  Moonstone."  It  was  the  experience  of  a  somnambulist  who  plays  detective  on  his  own 
identity  and  hunts  his  respected  self  down. 

One  of  the  most  talented  of  the  amateur  company  in  which  the  stage  struck  bank  clerk  figured  as  a 
bright  light,  was  a  young  lady  who  on  one  occasion  assumed  the  part  of  Columbia  in  a  patriotic  burlesque  of 
the  literary  actor,  his  first  dramatic  work,  as  he  often  laughingly  said.  In  Columbia  Mr.  Mackeever  found 
the  wife  whose  tender  care  sweetened  his  last  hours,  and  in  whose  company  he  made  the  last  silent  j  ourney, 
from  among  the  rustling  palms  to  the  ice-bound  cemetery  in  Philadelphia  where  he  found  final  rest. 

His  retirement  from  the  bank  occurred  shortly  after  his  early  marriage,  and  a  little  while  before  the 
birth  of  his  only  child.  Then  commenced  his  real  battle  of  life,  with  no  better  weapon  than  his  pen.  At 
one  time,  in  order  to  earn  the  living  he  required,  he  was  directly  connected  with  four  papers  and  a  con- 
tributor to  as  many  more  as  he  could  find  a  market  in.  At  various  times  ho  figured  in  the  columns  of  every 
paper  in  the  Quaker  City  except  the  Public  Ledger.  Some  of  his  earliest  reportorial  work  was  done  on  Fitz- 
gerald's City  Item,  then  in  its  infancy.  His  best  labors  were  devoted  to  the  Morning  Post,  of  which  John  1). 
Stockton  and  Major  A.  It.  Calhoun  were  respectively  editor  and  publisher.  An  ardent  friendship  sprang  up 
between  the  editor  and  his  young  subordinate,  an  amity  which  ripened  steadily  until  the  former's  death. 

The  Morning  Post  did  not  run  a  very  extended  course.  Mr.  Mackeever  then  became  attached  to  other 
papers,  chief  among  them  being  the  Inquirer.  It  was  in  the  interest  of  several  papers,  however,  that  he 
attended  the  Presidential  Convention  which  resulted  in  the  nomination  of  Horace  Greeley.  There  he  met 
Jolin  Gilbert,  another  newspaper  man  of  local  fame,  now  an  attache  of  the  staff  of  the  Philadelphia 
T.hies.  After  the  Convention  they  went  to  Washington  aud  thence  to  Long  Branch,  on  business  for  their 
respective  journals.  There  the  mad  fancy  of  a  vagabond  trip  to  Europe  took  possession  of  them.  They  had 
hardly  money  to  pay  for  the  passage,  but  they  went  on,  trusting  to  fortune,  and  lauded  in  Liverpool  with  a 
single  sovereign  between  them. 

During  the  passage  they  had  made  the  acquintance  of  a  young  Spaniard  of  wealth,  Senpr  Santago  De 
Lima.    The  young  Spaniard  had  a  very  imperfect  knowledge  of  English,  and  was  altogether  likely  to  fall  an 


LIFE  OF  SAMUEL  AXDEBSOX  MACKEEVER. 


easy  prey  to  the  sharpers  of  London.  He  requested  his  friend  Mackeever,  in  whose  vast  knowledge  he  possessed 
unbounded  confidence,  to  act  as  cicerone  for  him.  It  was  a  burst  of  sunrise  on  a  dark  future.  Mackeever,  who  him- 
self knew  London  only  from  the  books  of  his  favorite  author,  Dickens,  accepted  the  responsibility  at  once.  "  How- 
ever little  I  knew,"  he  used  to  say,  "it  was  more  than  he  did."  From  London  they  went  to  Paris,  whence  the 
grandee  returned  home  to  Barcelona.  The  Bohemians  were  left  to  shift  for  themselves  in  the  very  heart  of  Bohemii, 
ignorant  of  the  language,  and  within  a  few  francs  of  bankruptcy. 

Thanks  to  a  loan  from  an  American  visitor  whom  they  had  met  at  home  they  managed  to  reach  Boulogne ! 
There  the  vice  consul  furnished  them  with  a  passage  to  Southampton.  They  landed  in  England  with  a  gold- 
headed  cane  and  their  wits  as  their  only  assets. 

Gilbert's  overcoat  had  long  since  found  its  way  into  the  bowels  of  the  Temple,  to  figure  as  a  relic  in  some  Paris- 
ian old  clo'  shop.  Mackeever  retained  his,  a  natty,  mouse-coiored  affair,  which  a  shop-seller  consented  to  sacrifice 
half  a  sovereign  for.  The  cane  they  kept  to  give  them  their  start  in  life  in  London.  They  set  out  by  the  high  road 
for  the  Capital,  nearly  200  miles  away.  The  record  of  the  trip  would  fill  a  volume,  It  was  a  tramp  against  hunger 
lightened  only  by  the  most  determined  hopefulness  of  two  stout  hearts. 

One  of  its  brightest  episodes  occurred  as  they  were  nearing  London.  Their  money  had  given  out,  they  were  hun- 
gry, despairing,  almost  desperate  enough  to  steal.  Mackeever  in  addition  was  ill,  and  scarcely  able  to  crawl  along  at 
a  snaii's  pace.  A  tramp  tinker's  wife  squatted  on  the  edge  of  a  ditch,  bathing  a  bruised  forehead  and  a  black  eye, 
Ler  liege  lord,  having  performed  the  marital  duty  of  inflicting  these  vigorous  caresses  on  her,  was  stalking  off  in  the 
distance,  leaving  her  to  follow  with  his  heavy  kit. 

Sorry  as  their  plight  was,  the  two  famishing  men  found  hers  so  much  more  sorrowful  that  they  stopped  to  cheer 
her.  They  shouldered  her  kit  for  her,  and  as  they  strolled  along  in  company  she  learned  their  story.  Under  her 
grime  and  degradation  burned  some  of  the  divine  fire  of  true  womanhood,  a  remnant  the  blows  of  her  brutal  master 
had  failed  to  extinguish  in  blood.  As  they  parted  she  slipped  something  into  Mackeever's  hand.  It  was  her  last 
half-crown,  and  she  pushed  on,  empty-pocketed,  to  sup  doubtless  on  a  beating  from  her  furious  lord,  and  the 
memory  of  an  act  of  charity  done  in  good  time. 

They  spent  their  first  night  in  London  houseless,  in  the  rain,  snatching  a  brief  shelter  in  a  deep  doorway,  or 
under  the  arch  of  Temple  Bar,  always,  however,  to  experience,  like  Poor  Jo,  the  nudge  of  a  policeman's  mace  and  the 
command,  "  Come  now,  jcu  move  on."  Next  day  they  pawned  the  cane  and  slept  with  full  stomachs  in  a  "thrip- 
penny  doss."  When  the  cane  was  devoured  and  slumbered  away  they  found  quarters  for  a  night  or  two  in  St.  James' 
Park.  Day  followed  day  in  the  same  dreary  succession.  They  wandered  about,  wearing  their  hopes  out  on  the 
stones  of  London,  which  they  began  to  think  were  no  harder  or  more  merciless  than  men's  hearts. 

Ir.  their  loiterings  they  began  to  haunt  the  docks,  with  a  vague  fancy  that  they  might  find  one  of  the  whole- 
smled  skippers  they  had  read  about,  or,  at  least,  obtain  an  opportunity  to  work  their  passage  home.  None  of  the 
skippers  seemed  to  be  in  London,  and  they  were  not  promising  enough  sailors  to  be  jumped  at.  Among  the  ships 
they  boarded  in  their  apparently  hopeless  quest,  and  now  they  boarded  every  one  they  came  across,  was  an  old  New 
Tork  and  London  packet,  the  Rhine.  The  captain,  inspirod  with  sympathy  by  Mackeever's  condition,  for  the  merry 
Bohemian's  hard  life  had  told  heavily  on  him,  consented  to  give  him  a  passage  to  New  York,  but  for  himself  alone. 
He  refused  to  desert  his  friend,  zr.i  a  compromise  was  at  length  effected  by  which  he  shipped  as  cook's  mate  and 
Gilbert,  whose  athletic  strength  *tood  him  in  good  stead,  as  seaman  before  the  mast.  They  signed  the  papers,  re- 
ceived their  sovereign  advance,  bpent  it  in  a  feast  of  congratulation  in  a  waterside  public  house,  and  went  to  sea 
without  a  farthing  in  their  pockets,  but  rich  in  the  knowledge  that  they  were  homeward  bound. 

The  passage  was  a  long  and  hard  one.  The  vessel  carried  a  'tween  decks  crammed  with  emigrants  of  the  rough- 
est sort,  and  the  coot's  mate  had  his  hands  full.  Unaccustomed  labor  and  exposure  did  their  work.  "When  the 
"Rhine"  came  up  New  York  Bay  Mackeever  was  completely  broken  down,  a  phantom,  lost  to  identification  in  a  wild 
cloud  of  yellow  beard  and  hair. 

They  found  a  land'ady  up-town  with  enough  confidence  in  human  nature  to  lease  them  a  room  on  a  week's 
credit,  in  spite  of  their  rags  and  misery.  In  fact,  it  was  the  misery  that  worked  it.  Mackeever's  solemn  assertion 
that  he  would  die  on  the  doorstep  scared  her.  There  was  a  stove  in  this  room  On  it  they  cooked  enough  food  to 
keep  them  alive,  procured  by  some  mysterious  means  known  to  Gilbert  alone,  for  his  friend  was  too  sick  to  go 
abroad.  While  in  bed  he  dictated  two  articles,  describing  their  trip  across  the  Atlantic  and  their  journey  back. 
These  were  sent  to  the  Evening  Telegram,  then  under  the  editorial  management  of  Felix  J.  Defontaine,  They  were 
accepted  and  Mr.  Mackeever  received  $20  for  the  two. 

It  was  the  first  money  he  had  ever  earned  in  New  York. 

He  followed  his  first  articles  in  the  Telegram  up  with  others.  His  winning  manner  and  eminently  mag- 
netic joviality  made  him  many  friends  at  once.  A  very  few  weeks  proved  him  to  be  a  valuable  reporter  and 
an  able  scribe.  The  consequence  was  that  he  was  soon  actively  employed.  His  first  real  reportorial  work 
here  was  performed  for  the  Sunday  Mercury,  then  under  the  managing  editorship  of  Dr.  Wood  It  was  a 
practice  wit*  i^  unattached  reporters  on  the  daily  papers  to  apply  for  Saturday  night   assignments  on  the 


LIFE  OF  SAMUEL  ANDERS  OX  MA  CKEETER. 


Mercury.  On  the  night  John  Scannell  shot  John  Donohue,  Mr.  Mackeever  had  made  his  first  application  for 
work.  There  was  none.  He  was  lounging  in  the  office  alone,  hesitating  to  encounter  the  inclement  night  be- 
fore Gilbert,  who  had  been  sent  on  a  mission,  returned,  when  news  of  the  murder  was  reeeived.  "  The  Doctor 
looked  at  me,"  he  said,  "  and  shook  his  head  dubiously.  Then  he  asked  me,  '  Young  man,  do  you  think  you 
could  report  a  murder  ?'  '  I  could  tell  better  if  I  had  the  chance,'  I  answered.  He  gave  me  the  chance  and  I 
never  heard  him  say  he  regretted  it.  I  who  had  been  loafing  in  the  office  without  car-fare  home  rattled  up- 
town in  a  coupe,  and  with  the  prospect  of  a  good  night's  work,  which  it  proved  to  be,  for  I  made  over  $25 
out  of  it." 

During  his  first  couple  of  months  in  metropolitan  journalism,  Mr.  Mackeever  was  a  space  writer  on  the 
Telegram  and  Hei  aid,  and  a  contributor  of  random  articles  to  other  papers,  notably  the  Sun.  He  was  then 
employed  on  the  Telegram  at  a  salary,  doing  much  extra  work  on  the  Herald.  During  this  period  he  made 
his  several  balloon  voyages  with  Donaldson  as  special  for  the  latter  paper,  becoming  also  a  volunteer  for  the 
Daily  Graphic  balloon  voyage.  In  connection  with  Colonel  James  B.  Mix  he  furnished  many  letters  to  the 
Chicago  Times  during  the  Beecher  trial.  The  same  gentleman  was  associate  editor  with  him  of  ex- Warden 
Sutton's  "  History  of  the  Tombs."  The  resignation  of  the  Telegram,  dramatic  critic  led  to  his  assumption  of 
that  post,  which  he  held  with  honor  till  he  left  New  York  to  return  no  more.  He  now  commenced  the 
publication  of  a  series  of  sketches  on  the  editorial  page  of  the  paper  similar  to  "  City  Characters"  he  con- 
tributed later  under  the  nom  de  guerre  of  Colonel  Lynx  to  the  National  Police  Gazette.  The  Telegram 
series  were  styled  "  Popular  Pictures,"  and  were  an  immense  hit.  He  also  began  the  publication  of  those 
spicy  editorial  paragraphs  for  which  the  Telegram  soon  became  famous. 

In  1874  Mr.  Mackeever  attached  himself  to  the  editorial  staff  of  the  late  Frank  Leslie.  He  was  at  various 
times  editor  of  Happy  Homes,  the  Lady's  Magazine,  the  Young  Men  of  America  and  last  of  The  Day's  Doings.  His 
pen  elevated  this  last  out  of  the  profoundest  mire  of  feeble  lewdness  into  rank  as  one  of  the  brightest  sen- 
sational papers  in  the  world.  His  co-editors  at  various  times  here  were  Mortimer  Thompson,  better  known 
as  Q.  K.  Philander  Doesticks,  P.  B.,  whose  most  intimate  friend  he  was  to  the  last,  Mr.  C.  Edmond  Pillet, 
now  of  the  Sunday  News  editorial  staff,  and  with  whom  he  afterwards  collaborated  as  dramatist  in  the  play 
of  "  Nathan  Hale,"  Sydney  Rosenfeld,  the  dramatist,  Frank  Norton,  now  proprietor  and  editor  of  The  Era, 
Thomas  Powell,  partner  of  John  Brougham  in  The  Lantern,  and  various  other  of  the  genial  comedian's  liter- 
ary ventures,  Bracebrydge  Hemying  (Jack  Harkaway)  and  a  score  of  others  equally  well  known.  With  one  and 
all  of  these  his  relations  were  of  the  most  affectionate  sort.  In  fact,  throughout  his  life,  his  acquaintances 
were  ever  his  friends.  He  died  without  an  enemy  if  such  a  miracle  is  possible  in  this  politely  hypocritical  age. 

Although  he  was  compelled  to  relinquish  his  reportorial  connection  with  the  Telegram  by  his  labors  at 
Frank  Leslie's,  Mr.  Mackeever  continued  to  fulfil  his  duties  as  dramatic  critic  and  paragrapher.  In  1872  he 
severed  his  connection  with  Mr.  Leslie,  assuming  the  work  of  providing  the  Telegram  with  the  now  famous 
third  column  sketches.  At  about  the  same  time  he  became  a  contributor  to  the  National  Police  Gazette 
with  his  successful  serial,  "  The  Phantom  Friend."  The  series  of  sketches  now  famous  as  "  Glimpses  of 
Gotham  "  followed,  as  did  also  the  "City  Characters  "  and  the  "  Midnight  Pictures."  It  is  from  these  that 
the  selections  which  follow  have  been  culled.  It  was  Mr.  Mackeever's  intention  to  have  edited  them  him- 
self.   Unfortunately,  fate  has  called  upon  a  friend's  hand  to  do  the  work  of  that  which  is  forever  still. 

In  addition  to  his  regular  employment,  Mr.  Mackeever  was  continually  engaged  in  various  works  in 
which  his  versatile  genius  was  especially  demanded.  He  wrote  lectures  and  songs,  edited  books  and  corres. 
ponded  with  out-of-town  papers,  notably  the  Philadelphia  Times,  whose  first  New  York  correspondent  he 
was.  Although  a  marvelously  facile  and  rapid  writer,  a  man  whose  train  of  thought  seemed  to  run  freely, 
no  matter  how  adverse  circumstances  were,  or  what  surroundings  hampered  him,  he  had  but  little  time  for 
rest,  until  his  increasing  illness  rendered  it  imperative.  His  dramatic  work  especially  entrenched  on  his 
time.  After  a  hard  day's  labor  with  the  pen  came  the  evening  at  the  theatre,  the  excitement  of  the  play 
and  the  entracte,  so  that  by  bed-time  but  a  few  hours  of  rest  remained.  A  constitution  of  iron  would  have 
been  shattered  far  more  quickly  than  tough  flesh  and  blood  succumbed. 

About  a  year  ago  Mr.  Mackeever  began  to  experience  the  necessity  of  a  change.  To  avoid  the  rigor  of  a 
Northern  Winter,  he  pitched  on  Florida  as  the  most  convenient  place  of  retirement.  His  wife  accompanied 
him,  their  child  going  to  Philadelphia  to  her  grandmother's  care.  Although  his  connection  with  the 
Telegram  continued  his  health  permitted  little  labor,  and  half  a  dozen  letters  made  up  the  sum  of  his  contri- 
butions to  its  columns.  His  sketches  for  the  Gazette  continued  uninterruptedly,  and  in  such  spare  time 
as  remained  to  him  between  this  work  and  his  battle  with  disease,  he  added  a  few  chapters  to  a  novel  of 
local  life,  on  which  his  ambit- ju  was  set. 

As  a  dramatic  critic,  Mr.  Mackeever  made  a  host  of  friends  in  the  profession,  and  nothing  but  want  of 
time  prevented  his  name  becoming  a  marked  one  in  the  list  of  American  playwrights.  His  dramatic 
feuilleUms  were  among  the  best  of  their  kind.  He  contributed  them  at  various  times  to  the  Frank  Leslie 
publications,  to  the  Arcadian,  whose  chief  writer  he  was,  under  Louis  Engels'  management,  and  to  the 
National  Police  Gazette. 

Mount  Vernon  Cemetery,  in  Philadelphia,  was  the  scene  of  hi*  interment,  under  the  auspices  of  his 


LIFE  OF  SAMUEL  ANDERSON  MACKEEYER. 


■wife's  family.  His  own  family  are  now  located  in  Washington.  The  funeral  was  attended  by  a  committee 
of  the  New  York  Press  Club,  of  which  he  was  one  of  the  founders,  and  members  of  the  Philadelphia  press. 
But  one  strange  face  was  visible  at  the  funeral.  It  was  that  of  a  hard-featured  man  of  sixty,  whom  no  one 
knew,  and  who  left  the  cemetery  as  quickly  as  he  had  come.  The  presence  of  this  mourner  is  a  reminder  of 
a  curious  episode  in  the  dead  man's  career. 

Some  years  ago  he  became  possessed  of  a  fancy  to  live  in  a  tenement  house,  to  find  out,  by  actual  con- 
tact  with  them,  something  about  the  poor,  whose  lives,  so  full  of  the  hard  romance  of  poverty,  he  was  so 
fond  of  picturing.  He  found  a  room  in  an  up-town  tenement  on  the  East  Side.  The  proprietor  was  a  mat- 
ter-of-fact Irishman,  who  was  popularly  believed  never  to  smile.  He  made  friends  with  his  lodger  and  was 
reformed.  He  learned  to  laugh,  and  even  to  crack  jokes  on  his  own  account,  and,  altogether,  developed  into 
a  social  animal  wonderful  to  behold.  A  year  later  the  writer  was  invited  by  Mr.  Mackeever  to  attend  a 
wedding  up-town.  The  bridegroom  was  the  tenement  house  proprietor.  Now  that  he  had  discovered  what 
his  old  lodger  was,  he  worshipped  him  almost  as  a  Polynesian  savage  does  his  idol.  He  knew  more  about 
his  works  than  Mackeever  did  himself,  and  was  particularly  fond  of  writing  to  him  suggestions  for  new  sub- 
jects.   It  was  he  who  traveled  to  Philadelphia  to  pay  bis  last  tribute  of  respect  to  his  dead  friend. 

It  was  this  charm  of  spirit  and  of  manner  which  made  Samuel  Anderson  Mackeever  what  he  was — a 
Benjamin  of  literature.  Bright  as  his  works  were,  they  were  but  a  reflection  of  his  sunny  nature.  Sterling 
as  they  were,  they  were  no  purer  gold  than  his  own  warm  heart. 


GLIMPSES  OF  GOTHAM. 


-r-  -anasKWAi 


GLIMPSES     OF     GOTHAM. 


LADIES    WHO    WANT    MONEY. 


I  remember  among  other  pretty  bits  of  poetry  -which  I 
read  in  my  books  at  school,  was  one  about  the  robin  and 
the  disastrous  effect  which  the  approach  of  winter  was 
supposed  to  have  upon  him. 

There  "was  one  verse  which  began  : 
The  fierce  wind  doth  blow, 
And  we  shall  have  snow. 
What  will  the  poor  robin  do  then  ? 
Poor  thing ! 

I  was  of  an  exceedingly  sensitive  nature,  and  the  tough 
out-look  for  the  robin  used  to  affect  me  wonderfully,  but 
as  I  gradually  ascertained  that  they  either  went  south  on 
the  air-line,  or  put  up  with  relatives  in  snug  quarters 
north,  I  ceased  to  worry. 

But  I  never  pick  up  a  New  York  paper  and  read  of  the 
preparations,  more  or  less  extensive,  which  certain 
human  robins  are  making  for  the  winter  but  what  I  think 
of  the  bird  whose  prospective  sad  fate  used  to  cause  my 
childish  tears  to  flow  down  my  little  nose,  and  thence 
drop  a  sympathetic  splash  to  the  page  of  the  book  before 
me. 

Who  are  the  New  York  robins  ? 

They  are  the  shrewd  poor,  the  sentimental  hard-up,  the 
dead-broke  men  and  women  who  have  no  money  to  buy 
sealskins  and  grate-fires,  but  who  appreciate  those 
creature  comforts  quite  as  well  as  the  pampered  people  of 
fortune. 

Where  do  you  find  these  bird-tracks?  In  the  news- 
papers' advertising  columns. 

It  was  Henry  Ward  Beecher  who  said  that  the  most 
interesting  part  of  the  New  York  Herald  was  the  adver- 
tisements, and  I  am  frequently  inclined  to  believe  him. 
To-day  I  agree  with  him  particularly,  for  I  have  been  out 
robin  shooting,  and  have  a  bag  full  of  game  for  my  read- 
er-. 

Only  don't  let  the  printer  make  it  all  into  a  "  pi." 

The  favorite  stamping  ground  of  the  robins  is  the 
financial  department  of  the  paper. 

Bight  under  the  head  of  a  bonafide  advertisement  about 
borrowing  $10,000  (as  if  anybody  ever  had  so  much  money 
all  simultaneously),  I  catch  my  first  bird. 

It  is  ayonng  widow,  and  a  modest  one,  for  she  only 
wants  $100.  And  she  doesn't  desire  it  for  nothing.  On 
her  part  she  contracts  to  furnish  a  handsome  room,  with 
board.  She  signs  herself  "  Discreet."  A  discreet  young 
widow  tendering  a  handsomely-furnished  room, 
with  board,  is  a  rare  combination  of  earthly  happiness. 
There  will  be  no  trouble  in  her  getting  the  money.  Hard 
and  harsh  and  cynical  as  the  world  is,  there  are  dead 
loads  of  bald-headed  philanthropists  just  aching  to  help 
such  a  worthy  person  along. 

Next,  we  have  a  gentleman  who  states  that  he  was  once 
a  dazzling  light  on  the  stock  exchange.  He  is  free  to  con 
fees  that  speculation  ruined  him,  but  although  it  robbed 
liirn  of  his  diamond  studs  and  his  coupe,  and  his  credit  at 
Delmonico's,  not  to  mention  his  box  at  the  theatre,  and 
his  standing  in  the  club,  it  did  not,  thank  God,  as  it  could 
not  under  any  circumstances,  take  away  from  him  his 
extensive  knowledge  of  the  ins  and  outs  of  the  street 

He  might  not  have  been  able  to  hold  on  to  the  colossal 
fortune  he  was  rapidly  amassiug  for  himself,  but  his  very 
sad  experience  has  been  of  priceless  value  to  him,  and  he 


is  now  ready,being  in  possession  of  some  exclusive  points, 
to  put  a  man  with  $20,000  in  the  way  of  making  a 
million. 

This  is  surely  a  bird.    I  might  spell  it  a  "  robbin'." 

Ten  to  one  this  lump  of  sugar  lands  a  blue-bottle.  Some 
back-country  yokel,  with  a  whetstone  in  his  pocket,  will 
go  in  and  purchase  a  vast  deal  of  knowledge,  if  he  doesn't 
get  away  with  anything  else. 

Softly  I  Here's  a  nice  birdie.  It's  a  young,  refined  lady 
who  wants  a  hundred  from  a  refined,  honorable  gentle- 
man.   "No  triflersneed  applv.  ' 

She  wouldn't  take  that  money  from  a  greasy,  unrefined 
pork-butcher,  would  she  ?  Oh,  no  I  I  shouldn't  wonder 
now  if  she  wouldn't  prefer  the  money  perfumed,  a  hun- 
dred (scents)  to  the  dollar,  as  it  were. 

In  the  same  neighborhood  I  detect  the  "te-weet"  of  a 
young  lady  of  twenty  years  who  wants  a  hundred  until 
she  is  of  age.  She  also  wants  it  from  a  gentleman. 
Strange,  isn't  it,  that  you  never  see  an  advertisement  like 
this  : 

A  MODEST  YOUNG  WOMAN,  FINANCIALLY  EMBAB- 
rassed,  would  like  to  borrow  $100  from  another  mod- 
est young  woman  who  has  it  to  lend.  Address,  "  Mock 
Turtle.  " 

But  you  never  do  see  such  advertisements,  whether  it 
is  strange  or  not.  I  must  investigate  this  branch  of  flfe 
subject 

What  have  I  next  in  my  game-bag?  Another  refined 
bird— refined  perhaps  in  the  furnace  of  misfortune.  She 
has  a  house,  but  she's  devilish  hard-up.  You  can  tell  that 
by  the  emphasis  she  puts  on  her  prayer  for  immediate  as- 
sistance. Altogether  this  is  a  mysterious  case.  Her 
gentlemen  must  be  wealthy.  She  names  no  amount.  Per- 
haps she  wants  thousands.    I  shan't  answer  that  one. 

One  young  woman  contemplates  housekeeping,  and  she 
wants  an  elderly  gentleman  to  assist  her.  She  doesn't 
state  what  he  is  to  do.  Perhaps  he  is  to  wash  dishes,  fetch 
up  coal  and  answer  the  bell.  It  would  simplify  matters 
all  around  if  these  birds  who  are  in  quest  of  winter  quar- 
ters would  be  more  explicit.  I  know  lots  of  elderly  gentle, 
men  who  would  feel  awkward  and  embarrassed  if  they 
had  to  call  personally  and  talk  over  an  advertisement  like 
that.  She  signs  herself  "Marrion."  Ha,  ha  1  A  light 
breaks  upon  me.  She  is  a  "  M anion"  young  party,  and 
the  elderly  gentleman  is  to  assist 

There  are  any  quantity  of  refined,  elegant,  handsome, 
modest  widows,  married  women  and  young  girls  who 
want  to  sell  pawn  tickets.  In  these  cases  there  are  many 
that  are  of  genuine  distress,  but  in  a  great  number  of  in- 
stances the  design  is  to  effect  one  interview  and  trust  to 
luck  for  enlisting  the  sympathy  of  the  caller. 

Many  a  proud  woman  who  once  entertained  in  regal 
style  and  flashed  through  her  drawing-room  like  a  be- 
jeweled  comet  has  been  forced  to  realize  on  her  gems  and 
then  on  the  flimsy  memorandums  of  her  hard  luck. 

These  are  romances  of  life  in  New  York  that  have  no 
affiliation  with  the  sharpers  and  pretty  swindlers  I  havo 
ealled  robins.  And  yet  you  can  scarcely  style  them  swin- 
dlers. There  are  few  of  the  discreet  widows  and  refined 
young  women  but  who  would  like  to  pay  back  in  coin,  if 
they  had  it.    Not  being  possessed  of  that  very  useful 


la 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


article,  they  mint  their  smiles  only  too  frequently  and 
stamp  them  -with  a  kiss. 

Some  try  the  pathetic,  -which  is  business  in  its  way, 
Just  as  much  as  the  cold  advertisement  of  a  lot  of  pig  iron 
for  sale.  Voila  the  case  of  the  "young  lady"  who  is 
"painfully  embarrassed."  Ah  I  I  have  suffered  from  this 
pain  myself  !  It  is  a  deplorable  tightness  in  the  chest. 
She  wants  a  hundred,  also,  and  desires  that  the  lender 
shall  trust  to  her  honor. 

Why  do  they  all  want  a  hundred  dollars,  or  most  of 
them?    Let  me  see: 

Dress $40 

Bonnet 10 

Coat   25 

Shoes 5 

Stockings  (of  the  right  stripe) 3 

Gloves 5 

Lingerie , , 12 

$100 

There  you  are.  Now  how  do  you  suppose  I  found  all 
this  out?  Simplest  thing  in  the  world.  I  gave  a  lady 
friend  $100  and  told  her  to  see  what  kind  of  robin  plumage 
she  could  get  for  it. 

The  more  I  have  reflected  upon  the  transaction  the 
more  I  am  convinced  that  it  certainly  was  the  simplest 
thing  in  the  world.  But  this  is  the  age  of  materialism. 
You  must  pay  for  precise  knowledge.  Then,  again,  I  am 
a  philanthropist. 

Not  infrequently  the  sick  are  appealed  to.  The  pocket 
is  approached,  in  fact,  through  the  stomach  or  the  liver. 
One  lady  of  the  most  appalling  culture,  who  is  bang-up  on 
all  kinds  of  chronic  diseases,  wants  a  "  sufferer"  to  assist 
hjg.  This  is  very  fine.  Think  of  gradually  getting  well 
anu  cheering  a  cultured  heart  at  the  same  time  1  In  these 
cases  I  presume  the  bleeding  process  is  resorted  to  exten- 
sively. 

Just  now  there  are  a  good  many  robins  who  would  like 
to  make  themselves  cosy  for  the  winter  by  selling  their 
mining  stock  shares  at  a  tremendous  sacrifice.  They 
wouldn't  do  this  under  any  circumstances  if  they  didn't 
have  to  go  to  the  south  of  France  for  their  health.  Is  the 
mine  solid  f  Look  at  that  red-streaked  map  on  the  wall 
and  that  huge  nugget  of  quartz  on  the  window-sill  1  Why, 
the  mines  of  Peru  are  catch-penny  swindles  alongside 
of  it. 

Some  of  the  ladies  are  not  "cultured,"  or  "  refined,"  or 
"modest,"  but  only  "genteel."  They  want  to  go  into 
business  in  a  small  way,  and  would  like  some  honorable 
gentleman,  etc. 

I  like  the  ringing  tone  of  the  young  woman  who  is  not 
even  " genteel,"  but  simply  a  young  woman  "who  can 
adapt  herself  to  anything. "    She  wants  $250. 

A  widow  will  explain  all  about  it  at  an  interview.  One 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars  will  take  her  from  the  slough  of 
despond  and  put  her  upon  the  pinnacle  of  happiness, 

A  matrimonial  agency  will  condescend  to  take  in  a  part- 
ner for  $500.  There  is  a  chance.  This  is  certainly  the 
matrimonial  season.  Everybody,  who  isn't,  should  be 
getting  married.  My  friend  Alphy,  of  Spain,  is  going  to 
buy  another  ticket  in  the  amatory  lottery,  and  no  doubt 
his  example  will  be  largely  followed. 

Injustice  to  Emeline,  between  whom  and  myself  at  the 
present  moment  there  is  an  honorable  coolness,  I  will 
state  that  the  matrimonial  establishment  referred  to  is 
not  the  one  in  Williainslmrgh  I  wrote  of. 

It  still  flourishes.  She  has  enlarged  it  by  adding  a 
divorce  bureau.  x 

An  inventor  asks  for  means  to  help  him  bring  to  perfec- 
tion a  machine  that  will  just  knock  the  spots  out  of  every 


thing.  He  doesn't  say  what  the  idea  is ,  but  if  you  invest 
gated  you  would  probably  discover  another  perpetual 
motion  or  a  Keely  motor. 

By  the  way  what  became  of  Keely  T  He  lived  a  long 
while  on  that  pint  of  water.  I  consider  him  a  boss 
robin,  a  regular  turkev  buzzard. 

A  dressmaker  wants  a  "  Silent  Partner. "  He's  to  say 
nothing,  and  pay  the  bills. 

And  so  they  go  on  until,  the  female  list  exhausted,  you 
come  upon  the  people  who  have  business  to  sell.  These  an 
a  very  remarkable  species  of  the  robin.  You  can  have  no 
idea  of  the  vast  amount  of  wealth  that  is  ready  to  pour 
into  the  coffers  of  the  man  who  has  sums  of  monc 
ranging  from  $50  to  $50,000  to  put  up,  until  you  read  thei 
cards.  x 

That's  the  amount  you  pay  to  see  the  hand. 

The  preposterous  number  of  oyster  saloon,  milk  routes, 
bakeries,  gin  mills  and  barber  shops,  that  will  just  make 
the  eternal  fortune  of  the  one  starving  there  now,  and 
the  other  fellow  thatonght  to  come  with  $300,  are  enough 
to  stagger  you. 

Some  of  the  "ads"  are  densely  mysterious.  Such  is 
the  ease  with  the  one  where  a  man  of  "  nerve  "  is  asked 
for.  He  is  to  have  $3,000,  and  is  to  "make  an  operation" 
that  will  yield  $10,000  "  immediately." 

As  if  to  tantalize  these  poor  robins  the  same  columns 
are  crowded  with  the  blatant  offers  of  capitalists  who 
have  money  to  loan  on  anything  and  everything.  And 
yet  the  man  with  the  gold-mine  in  the  oyster  saloon,  and 
the  capitalist  who  is  after  a  gold-mine  rarely  come  to- 
gether. 

In  other  parts  of  any  of  our  great  advertising  dailies 
you  will  find  the  notices  of  philanthropists,  who  are  on 
the  look-out  for  poor  little  robins,  and  who  wish  to  be- 
friend them. 

The  Spanish  gentleman  who  wants  to  meet  an  American 
lady  for  mutual  improvement  and  learn  English  is  of  this 
kind,  this  very  kind. 

Do  you  not  remember  the  case  of  the  pretty  shop-girl 
who  taught  the  rich  Spaniard  English  in  a  west  side 
restaurant,  where  they  have  elegant  private  supper 
rooms  ?  Well,  she  was  a  robin,  working  hard 
week  in  a  store  for  a  pittance  ;  and  she  seemed  glad 
enough,  when  the  "  fierce  wrind  did  blow,-'  and  it  looked 
like  snow  to  avail  herself  of  the  opportunities  ofl'ered 
her. 

If  I  remember  correctly  the  father  raised  quite  a  fuss 
and  brought  the  case  into  the  courts,  but  the  weak  girl 
had  tasted  champagne  and  quail.  You  couldn't  got  her 
back  to  pork  and  beans. 

There  is  no  question  but  that  nine-tenths  of  these  femi- 
nine pipings  of  distress  in  the  "  Financial  columns  "  of 
the  papers  are  mere  blinds,  and  bold  manoeuvres  to  get 
acquainted  with  men  of  money. 

They  will  always  be  so  construed  at  any  rate  bj*  the 
men  of  money  who  take  the  trouble  to  answer  them,  and 
if  I  possess  any  fair  readers  I  tell  them  plainly  now  that 
if  they  resort  to  this  method  of  raising  the  wind,  they 
must  suffer  the  broadest  construction  to  be  placed  upon 
their  action. 

I  have  a  friend  who  took  the  trouble,  "just  out  of  curi- 
osity "  he  said,  to  follow  up  one  of  the  advertisements. 
The  distressed  one  wanted  but  $80  in  order  together 
trunks  from  the  rapacious  landlady,  who  was  holding 
them  astcollateral  for  board  had  and  enjoyed. 

The  lady  waa  a  nice  talker,  a  real  fluent  one,  and  in- 
terested my  friend  from  the  start  Her  husband,  she 
said,  was  not  long  dead,  and  she  was  endeavoring  to  get 
along    by    herself    without  appealing  to  that  haughty 


GLIMPSES     OF     GOTHAM. 


13 


family,  supposed  to  be  rolling  in  luxury  somewhere 
from  which  her  marriage  had  estranged  her. 

This  resolute,  noble  spirit  had  its  effect  upon  the  chival- 
ric  gentleman. 

"  You're  an  old  cynic,  Paul,''  he  said  to  me  one  ni-jht 
in  my  rooms,  "  that's  what  you  are.  I'm  glad  I  gavo  her 
the  money.     She's  a  square  woman." 

"  Yes,  she's  a  square  woman,"  I  repeated,  "  but  she'll 
come  round." 

He  laughed  at  the  double  entendre  and  left  me.  The  next 
time  I  saw  him  he  wanted  $1,000. 

"  But  what  for?"  I  asked,  after  giving  the  address  of  a 
man  I  thought  might  accommodate  him. 

"  For  her." 

"  For  whom?" 


"Why  the  woman  that  wanted  the  $80.  Don't  you  re- 
member ?    I've  got  to  pay  certain  bills,  you  know." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  squaro  woman—" 

"Came  round?  Yes.  I  do."  And  away  ho  dashed, 
looking  more  troubled  and  careworn  than  I  had  ever 
seen  him. 

Now.  I  am  going  to  ask  a  favor  of  you.  Please  insert 
the  following  "ad"  for  me  and  charge  to  Profit  and 
Loss: 

WON'T  SOME  GENTEEL,  PLUMP,  PRETTY,  DISCREET 
young  widow  come  and  see  a  painfully  embarassed 
Boh'emian  and  loan  him  $1,000,  trusting  to  his  honor. 
Address,  P.  P.,  Police  Gazette. 

I  want  to  revolutionize  this  business  and  that's  the  way 
to  do  it.  Heretofore  it  has  been  all  one-sided.  I  too  am  a 
a  robin,  "  poor  thing." 


FIFTH    AYKKTTJE    OH    SUNDAY. 


There  isn't  a  man  in  the  country— and  I'll  put  $500  up 
at  the  Clipper  office— which  I  believe  is  the  usual  "toot" 
when  30U  bet — to  back  it,  who  has  a  greater  reverence 
for  the  genuine  article  of  Religion  than  I  have. 

And  there  isn't  a  man  who  has  a  greater  abhorrence 
of  the  fraudulent  material  which  you  too  frequently  have 
dealt  out  to  vou  by  the  metropolitan  pastors. 

I  was  led  into  this  train  of  thought  by  what  I  saw  and 
heard  as  I  walked  down  Fifth  Avenue  last  Sunday  just  as 
the  matinees  were  coming  out— I  beg  pardon,  just  as  the 
congregations  were  breaking  up. 

What  did  I  see? 

I  saw  New  York  female  loveliness  in  all  its  Fall  glory, 
and  an  expensive  glory  it  is  too.  I  saw  the  sun  catch  up 
the  sheen  of  the  diamonds,  and  multiply  their  magnifi- 
cence until  the  imagination  as  to  their  cost  was  perfectly 
staggered. 

I  saw  pretty  women,  pretty  enough  to  eat,  pretty 
enough  to  make  a  man  think  that  perhaps  there  is  some- 
thing in  cannibalism  after  all,  bowing  to  other  pretty 
women  from  carriage  windows,  and  kissing  their  hands, 
gloved  out  of  sight,  to  the  agony  of  the  yonng  men  on  the 
sidewalk,  who  acknowledged  the  courtesy  with  a  bow. 

I  wish  I  could  give  you  a  description  of  the  Fall  style  of 
New  York  bow,  but  I  am  afraid  that  my  pen  is  not  equal 
to  the  task.  It  makes  me  sadder  when  I  reflect  upon  the 
vast  number  of  young  sports  in  those  rural  towns  where 
the  Gazittk  penetrates,  who  would  bo  only  too  glad  to 
practice  it  to  perfection  behind  the  barn,  and  then  try  it 
in  all  its  full-fledged  loveliness  upon  the  Maud  Mullers  of 
the  vicinity  who  gather  on  Sundays  at  the  meeting 
house. 

All  that  I  can  remember  of  it  is  that  the  right  arm  goes 
up  suddenly,  like  the  patent  iron  hook  that  snatches  the 
mail  bags  at  unimportant  stations,  and  grabs  the  hat. 

This  is  carried  up  about  afoot  in  a  vertical  line,  and 
held  there  while  "  with  moderate  haste  you  could  tell '' 
a  lie,  or  a  hundred,  either,  to  give  Shakespeare  with  a 
little  altering. 

While  this  is  being  done  the  body  bends  at  the  pelvis 
(be  particular  about  the  pelvis),  until  the  spinal  line  of 
Jir" -tion  is  departed  from  at  least  ten  degrees,  but  not 


Then  the  hat  comes  down,  the  arm  gets  to  the  side  again 
with  military  precision,  and  the  vertebrae  stack  them- 
selves up  once  more  like  bone  chips  to  be  swept  in  by  the 
dealer. 

And  so  they  are  swept  in,  and  the  dealer's  name  ia 
Death. 

But  this  is  getting  into  outside  business,  thi3  is  dis- 
J  counting  the  game.    What  else  did  I  see? 

I  saw  hosts  of  young  men  who  wero  at  the  Sixth  Avenue 
dance  houses,  and  in  worse  places,  the  night  before. 

A  Turkish  bath,  and  two  or  throe  stiff  brandy  cocktails 
had  given  them  nerve  enough  to  see  tho  girls  home 
whom  they  are  trying  to  marry,  and  purely  for  specula" 
tive  reasons,  but  the  tell-tale  flush  of  the  cheek,  and  the 
false  lustre  of  the  eye,  the  nervous,  debonnair  use  of  the 
hand  and  cane,  could  not  deceivo  so  old  an  observer 
as  P.  P. 

You  can  rest  assured  that  they  didn't  stay  to  dinner, 
and  that  once  round  tho  corner  from  the  prospective 
fathers-in-laws'  residences,  they  made  all  haste  to  reach 
the  club,  sink  into  a  chair,  strike  the  bell,  and  scrawl  on 
the  pad  offered  by  the  waiter  an  order  for  brandy  and 
soda. 

Sinee  these  youug  men  do  not  go  to  church  themselves, 
except  when  an  actor  or  actress  Ls  buried,  or  there  is  a 
swell  wedding,  perhaps  my  remarks,  which  are  intended 
to  point  to  tho  sham  quality  of  the  religion  of  the  period 
— I  do  not  mean  religion  in  its  generic  sense,  but  in  the 
red-plushed  pew  exhibition  of  it— do  not  apply  to  them. 

But  still  they  form  part  of  tho  pageant  which  makes 
Fifth  Avenue  and  Broadway  so  entertaining  to  me  at 
i  this  season,  when  everyone  is  bound  to  have  his  or  her 
fall  harness  on,  and  the  young  men  who  still  cling  to  the 
straw  hat  sit  pondering  in  their  dismal  rooms  upon  the 
various  ways  of  blowing  out  the  penny  dip  of  light. 

To  some  it's  a  chandelier  with  electric  points  of  flaming 
beauty.  They  are  the  ones  I  admire,  and  I  am  afraid 
envy,  when  I  see  them  returning  from  their  devotions. 

The  horses  step  out  bravely  ;  the  well-appointed  car- 
riages flash  in  the  sun  ;  the  gay  throng  on  the  trottotr  have 
the  seraphic  smile  of  beings  who  have  just  been  told  that 
their  seats  are  taken  in  Heaven'3  best  circle.  Ah  1  it  i/ 
grand,  it  is  inspiriting,  but  it  is  a  terrible  masquerade. 

What  do  I  hear  ? 


14 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


I  hear  men  who  have  just  listened  to  sermons  on  the 
advisability  of  laying  up  treasures  in  Heaven,  discussing 
the  sudden  rise  in  stocks  in  Wall  street  and  making  plans 
for  the  "  puts  "  and  "  calls  "  of  the  morrow. 

Young  ladies  who  are  strolling  along  together  gossip 
about  the  bonnets  and  dresses,  and  analyze  the  merits  of 
the  various  matinees  they  attended  the  afternoon  pre- 
vious. 

It  is  all  the  world,  the  flesh  and  the  devil  knows  what 
else  beside  religion. 

There  is  none  of  that,  no  pondering  over  the  text,  no 
goiu/  home  in  quiet  meditation.  Spiritual  duty  ceased 
when  the  doxology  was  sung,  and  the  last  note  of  the 
heavily-salaried  soprano  floated  out  from  the  choir 
gallery. 

What  do  we  find  in  the  choir  ? 

We  find  a  few  ladies  and  gentlemen,  some  of  whom  may 
have  been  singing  "  Pinafore  "  at  a  '  shneid  '  theatre  on 
the  Saturday  night,  furnishing  a  variety  of  fancy  music 
that  ranges  from  the  measured  cadences  of  old-time  so- 
lemnity to  the  melodious  frippery  of  the  Italian  opera. 

These  are  hired  people,  and  it  is  not  their  business  to 
pay  any  attention  to  the  preaching.  As  a  general  rule 
they  don't.  Those  who  do  not  stay  awake  to  flirt,  or 
read  a  mysteriously  produced  novel,  get  behind  a  music 
stand,  and  go  to  sleep.  • 

I  have  heard  of  games  of  euchre  being  played  in  aa  or- 
gan loft,  but  I  prefer  not  to  believe  the  stories.  My  opin- 
ion of  the  empty  forms  of  devotion  indulged  in  at  present 
is  unfavorable  enough  as  it  is. 

The  singers  in  big  churches  are  all  professionals.  They 
appear  in  opera  and  concert,  and  are  always  on  the  look- 
out to  cash  their  notes  into  greenbacks.  I  know  two  or 
three  church  tenors  and  have  always  found  them  jolly 
good  fellows.  They  like  a  drink  almost  as  well,  but  not 
quite,  as  they  like  two  drinks,  and  on  more  than  one 
occasion  I  have  wondered,  as  the  artist  staggered  from 
the  Sunday  side  door  of  the  corner  saloon  to  keep  his 
church  engagement,  how  he  ever  managed  to  get  through 
with  it. 

Sometimes  they  do  make  mistakes.  There  was  my 
friend  Dunn  for  instance,  a  baritone.  He's  dead  now, 
and  it  won't  harm  him  to  tell  the  story,  provided  Ex- 
Superintendent  Kiddle  doesn't  go  repeating  it  at  a  seance. 

Bob  Dunn,  in  addition  to  being  the  baritone  of  an  east- 
side  chureh  was  a  singer  in  a  Prince  street  "  Free  and 
Easy."  Those  of  the  brethren  who  have  attended  such 
entertainments  know  that  Wednesday  and  Saturday 
evenings  are  the  occasions  when  the  funis  indulged  in. 

Bob  at  the  time  I  speak  of  was  counted  a  rival  of 
Johnny  Roach  in  his  pathetic  rendition  of  "  Muldoon," 
and  on  the  disastrous  Sunday  to  which  I  have  reference, 
Mr.  Dunn  was  asleep  in  the  organ  loft  after  the  opening 
services.  He  had  not  reached  his  home  until  4  a.  m.  ,  and 
even  at  that  hour  he  had  insisted  upon  Mrs.  Dunn  getting 
ujp  to  eat  a  Yarmouth  bloater,  and  a  welsh-rarebit  which 
he  had  brought  home  for  her. 

Win  n  you  find  a  man  about  midnight  commencing  to 
develop  a  desire  to  take  home  to  the  "  old  lady  "  some 
pig  -feet,  or  a  box  of  fried  oysters,  you  may  rest  assured 
that  the  liquor  he  has  taken  has  floated  his  conscience 
from  its  moorings. 

Mr.  Dunn  slumbered  as  I  have  said  all  through  the  ser- 
uj"ii.     Hut  he  was  not  idle— he  was  dreaming. 

He  was  in  the  Prince  street  saloon  again.  The  tobacco 
smoke  hung  about  like  a  yellow  cloud  shifted  hither  and 
yon  by  the  waiters  as  they  rushed  around  delivering 
"tobys"  of  ale,  "hot  scotches,"  "shandy-gaff,"  and 
other  orders.  The  tenor  of  the  evening  had  just  Bet  down 
after  singing  something  about   meeting  his  darling  girl 


when  the  little  stars  were  a-shining,  and  the  little  birds 
were  a-singing. 

It  was  Bob's  turn.  It  was  really  Bob's  turn  in  church, 
and  the  organist  was  shaking  him  bythe  shoulder.  He 
rose  to  his  feet  and  looking  about  him  cried: 

"  Order  gentlemen,  if  you  please." 

Then  clearng  his  throat  he  began: 

"  Come  and  see  me,  I'll  trate  ye  dacent, 
Iil  make  ye  drunk,  and  I'll  fill  yer  can, 
Sure,  when  I  walk  the  strate 
Says  each  one  I  mate 
There  goes  Muldoon,  he's  a  solid  man." 

There  was  perhaps  just  as  much  religious  warmth  in 
Mr.  Dunn's  little  verse  as  in  the  florid  singing  which  had 
preceded  it,  but  the  management  of  the  church  didn't 
think  so,  and  Mr.  Dunn's  services  were  dispensed  with. 

It  is  only  a  question  of  time  when  we  shall  have  a  full 
brass  band  in  the  church  gallery.  As  long  as  we  are  going 
to  depart  from  the  simple,  soul-stirring  hymns  and  psalms 
of  our  fathers,  I  am  decidedly  in  favor  of  it. 

What  is  the  use  of  going  half  the  way  as  they  do  over 
in  the  Brooklyn  Tabernacle,  where  Arbuckle  toots  on  the 
key-bugle.  If  the  key-bugle  has  a  place  in  a  choir  gallery, 
so  has  a  fiddle,  and  I  am  sure  that  there  is  as  much  the- 
ology in  a  bass-drum  as  there  is  in  a  French  horn. 

There's  as  much  wind  anyhow,  and  that  reminds  me  of 
Talmage. 

If  there  is  a  cause  for  this  undeniable  sham  which  we 
are  making  of  our  religious  duties,  attending  to  them  pre- 
cisely as  Ave  do  to  mundane  affairs,  and  buying  our  pews 
at  auction  as  we  buy  pools  at  a  horse  race,  it  must  be 
found  in  the  mouthings  of  such  mountebanks  as  Talmage. 

He  robs  religion  of  all  dignity  at  the  start.  Instead  of 
a  black-gown  he  put  on  a  jester's  cap  of  bells,  and  where 
we  look  for  the  grave  diction  of  a  man  impressed  with 
his  subject  we  find  the  blatant  braying  of  an  ass. 

The  familiar  manner  in  which  Talmage  alludes  to  the 
Almighty,  is  something  that  actually  appals  mc  even. 
You  might  jndge  that  they  had  belonged  to  the  same  fire 
company  together,  or  had  been  associated  just  as  inti- 
mately some  other  way. 

He  would  have  us  believe  that  his  transatlantic  trip 
was  a  complete  ovation.  There  is  no  use  denying  that  he 
preached  to  immense  audiences,  but  then  you  must  re- 
collect that  one  fool  makes  many,  and  that  Great  Britain 
has  always  been  noted  for  producing  an  immense  quan- 
tity of  crack-brained  individuals  who  will  drop  their  work 
and  run  for  half  a  day  after  a  five-legged  mule  if  one  hap- 
pens along 

The  sensible  papers  saw  through  Talmage  at  once,  and 
in  some  that  I  have  just  been  reading  he  received  a  terri- 
ble analysis.  There  certainly  should  be  a  law  against 
such  men  bringing  discredit  upon  an  entire  nation  by 
working  the  game  of  their  own  aggrandizement. 

I  feel  so  badly  about  it  myself  that  I  shall  not  go  to  Eng- 
land for  several  seasons  yet,  not  until  they  have  forgotten 
our  Long-legged  friend. 

Beecher  is  somewhat  accountable  for  the  mixed  condi- 
tion of  affairs  In  religion, although  in  an  entirely  different 
waj-  from  the  Tabernacle  wind-mill.  The  Rev.  Henry  Ward 
is  a  man  Of  brains— too  much  brains  in  one  quarter  of  his 
head,  and  his  intellectual  strength  is  undeniat  le.  He 
preaches  magnificently,  but  when  you  come  to  think  it 
all  over  you  find  it  merely  a  lecture.  He  is  vague,  shad- 
owy and  i.on-eoniniittal  in  his  creed.  Fou  get  a  general 
idea  that  your  duty  on  this  earth  is  to  do  good  and  be 
happy,  and  that  everything  will  be  squared  hereafter. 

Mi-  p reaches  among  other  things,  "  that  you  shall  love 
your  neighbor." 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


15 


Now  if  your  neighbor  is  cross-grained  and  unlovable,  if 
you  can't  get  your  love  invested  on  your  neighbor,  you 
nfust  love  your  neighbor's  wife,  and  the  maid-servant 
within  his  back-door. 

Beecher  tried  this  plan  himself.  He  wanted  to  love 
Theodore.  No  doubt  he  did.  But  Theodore  was  cold  and 
distant,  especially  his  head,  which  was  extremely  dis- 
tant 

So  he  turned  to  Elizabeth,  and  with  what  results  we  al- 
readv  know. 

Now  take  the  idiocy  of  Talmage,  the  heterodoxy  of 
Beecher,  and  the  shoddy  atmosphere  of  nearly  all  our 
fashionable  churches,  and  you  have  a  very  good  theory 
for  the  present  state  of  religious  matters. 

I  repeat  what  I  said  at  the  beginning  of  this  article, that 
I  have  an  abiding  respect  for  true  devotion,  but  I  think  a 
small-sized  crab-net  would  be  large  enough  to  land  all 


that  could  be  found  in  a  survey  of  the  crowds  that  I  met 
walking  home  from  church  through  the  soft  sunlight  of 
last  Sunday  morning. 

It  is  getting  to  be  a  question  of  show,  just  as  the  silver 
plate  is  trotted  out  on  state-dinner  occasions. 

Pews  are  knocked  down  like  horses  at  "Tattersalls.'' 
and  are  upholstered  in  opera-box  fashion. 

The  men  attend  as  a  matter  of  social  form,  and  women 
turn  the  church  into  a  millinery  bazar  where  the  styles 
can  be  studied  from  behind  the  barricade  furnished  by  a 
gilt-edged  and  Kussia-leather  prayer  book. 

The  choir  singers  flirt,  sleep,  go  out  for  beer,  or  study 
their  lines  for  next  day's  rehearsal  at  the  theatre. 

And  the  pretty  minister  preaches  a  cup-custard  sermon 
that  won't  disagree  with  anybody. 

Do  you  wonder  that  I  prefer  to  play  chess  on  Sun- 
days? 


THEATRICAL.     ' '  DEAD-HEADS. ' 


One  of  the  most  important  Glimpses  of  Gotham  to  be 
had  j  ust  now  is  that  through  the  opera  glass. 

The  theatrical,  concert,  operatic  and  "nigger"'  minstrel 
business  is  in  full  blast,  all  the  places  of  amusements  are 
crowded,  and  if  we  may  believe  the  managers  who  have 
been  interviewed,  with  the  exception  of  Max  Maretzek, 
the  future  is  flushed  with  golden  promise. 

As  a  rule  I  don't  go  much  to  theatres  now  ;  I  am  a  little 
llate,  and  it  takes  a  good  play  to  get  me  into  a  black  coat 
after  dinner  and  away  from  tbe  comfortable  chair  where 
I  sit  and  smoke,  and  ponder  upon  what  an  awfully 
wicked  world  this  is,  and  how  we  ought  to  struggle  and 
strive  to  make  it  a  little  better. 

But  lately  I  have  dropped  into  two  or  three  Thespian 
temples  on  the  first  nights,  and  feel  more  impressed  with 
the  fact  than  ever  that  while  theatres  may  burn  up,  or  be 
torn  down  and  managers  may  go  to  the  devil  through  the 
non-appreciation  of  the  public,  the  noble  army  of  first 
nighters  will  alwavs  flourish,  and  the  deadhead  system 
will  never  lose  its  grip. 

I  was  at  Wallack's,  for  instance,  on  the  Saturday  night 
when  Boucicault  presented  his  Cremorne  Garden  play  to 
the  best  families  of  New  York.  A  play  so  utterly  nasty  in 
some  of  itssuggestiveness,  although  funny,  that  I  couldn't 
enjoy  even  the  humorous  parts  of  it  through  fear  of  losing 
some  of  my  dignity.  For  all  I  knew  some  of  the  vestrymen 
or  members  of  the  Committee  on  Poor  Red  Flannel— I 
mean  Red  Flannel  for  the  Poor— might  have  been  present, 
and  I  wouldn't  have  had  them  see  me  laugh  fcr  the 
world. 

So  I  sat  all  through  the  evening  as  if  it  were  a  dentist's 
front  parlor,  and  there  were  only  two  more  visitors  to 
yell  "  murder,"  before  it  came  my  turn. 

I  feel  easy  in  expressing  my  opinion  of  the  play,  be- 
cause I  know  it  will  not  conflict  with  your  critics.  I  met 
the  estimable  Marquis  there,  and  we  blushed  together. 
We  blushed,  in  fact,  several  times  together. 

But  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  either  good  or  bad  plays. 
My  purpose  is  to  allude  to  the  sameness  of  first  nights, 
and  to  the  prevalence  of  the  dead-head  custom. 

For  ten  years  past  a  certain  number  of  club  men  have 
been  sure  to  be  around  on  the  initial  representation  of  a 
play.    One  by  one  they  dropped  in  on  the  Saturday  night 


I  speak  of.  They  always  have  good  seats.  Some  pay,  but 
others  are  on  the  regular  list  as  dead-heads,  and  although 
they  are  willing  to  stand  a  bottle  of  wine  after  the  per- 
formance, or  even  purchase  a  box  for  a  oenefit,  the  idea 
of  "  giving  up  "  for  an  ordinary  night  strikes  them  with 
a  cold  horror. 

After  a  while  the  management  accept  their  first  night 
demands  for  tickets,  just  as  they  would  accept  the  dumb- 
ague—  k  <•.,  with  resignation.  You  can't  shake  either 
them  or  the  chills.  There  is  a  little  consolation,  however, 
in  the  reflection  that  they  generally  come  in  full  dress, 
and  so  give  tone  to  the  house. 

These,  then,  are  the  first  rank  of  dead-heads,  the  impu- 
dent fellows  with  money  who  think  that  their  presence  is 
recompense  enough. 

After  them  come  the  newspaper  men  and  members  of 
the  profession.  The  murnalists  can  scarcelv  be  called 
dead-beads  since  they  have  already  furnished  an  equiva- 
lent by  preliminary  noticing,  and  are  yet  to  give  a  more 
or  less  elaborate  criticism. 

The  profession  go  in  by  courtesv,  but  not  by  right. 
Sometimes  the  management  will  shut  down  on  them  like 

]  a  meat  axe. 

j     I  don't  mean,  of  course,  that  Edwin  Booth,  or  Clara 

i  Morris  couldn't  get  into  the  show  for  nothing,  but  in  their 
case  they  would  come  it  in  a  high-toned  style.  They 
would  write  the  note  in  their  hotel  and  send  it  around  by 

l  a  nigger.    And  what  is  more  they  would  always  ask  for  a 

j  box. 

|     It  is  the  fellows  who  loaf  about  the   lobby   and   try   to 

!  pass  the  gate  on  greasy  cards  and  handbills,  who  are 
sometimes  bounced. 

Well,  you've  got  to  draw  the  line  somewhere.  If  I  was 
giving  grand  opera  at  the  Academy  at  $3  a  seat,  I  should 
kick  a  little  about  passing  a  cannon-ball  tosser,  or  the 
tattooed  Greek. 

I  came  across  that  old  story  the  other  day,  and  it's  good 
enough  to  re-print,  since  it  bears  on  the  subject,  about 
the  scng  and  dance  men  who  were  smart  enough  to  get 
through  under  difficulties.    Here  it  is  : 

While  Mr.  Schoeffel  of  the  Park  Theatre,  Philadelphia, 
was  managing  Edwin  Adams  the  company  stopped  one 
night   at   Utica,  N.    Y.    After  looking  after  all  the  local 


16 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


newspapers  Mr.  Schoeffel  quietly  sat  down  on  free  tickets 
and  said  that  not  another  one  should  be  issued.  Just  be- 
fore the  doors  were  opened  Mr.  Schoeffel  said  to  Smith, 
the  agent,  "Now,  George,  I'm  too  well  known  in  this 
town  to  take  that  lower  door.  You  manage  that  and  I'll 
go up-stairs,  where  no  one  will  see  me;  and  mind,  now, 
we've  got  a  full  house  and  not  a  deadhead  goes  in  to- 
night. Mr.  Schoeffel  was  quietly  pulling  in  the  tickets  at 
the  balcony  door  when  he  saw  two  young  fellows,  about 
the  same  age  and  dressed  precisely  alike,  edging  up  to  the 
door.  "  HuFo,  Cully,"  said  one  of  them.  The  manager 
went  on  taking  tickets.  '  Hullo,  Cully,''  came  again.  "  I 
don't  know  who  you  are  calling  to,"  replied  Mr.  Schoeffel; 
"  If  you  mean  me,  my  name  is  not  Cully."  "Now,  look 
here,  young  fellow,  don't  you  give  us  any  taffy;  I  want  to 
know  if  you're  going  to  pass  two  blokes  in? "  "Two 
blokes?"  said  the  manager;  "no,  I'm  not  going  to  pass 
two  blokes  in."  "  Whst !  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you 
are  not  going  to  pass  the  profesh?"  "The  what?" 
"Why,  the  profesh,  young  feller,  '  and  putting  his  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  his  companion,  the  two  dancers  clat- 
tered off  the  "  Down-among-the-roses  '  step.  "  Well,  yes," 
said  the  manager;  "  if  I  know  you,  I'll  pass  you."  "  Well, 
I  don't  suppose  you  do,"  the  spokesman  replied;  "  we're 
McGlimgan  and  McGlanagan."  "  I  don't  think  I  can  do 
anything  for  you,"  Mr.  Schoeffel  said.  "Say,  young 
feller,"  McGhnigan  replied,  "  do  you  know  Mr.  Queen,  of 
the  New  York  Clipper?"  "Certainly."  "Well,  do  you 
know  that  he's  a  friend  of  mine,  and  that  if  I  should 
write  him  how  you've  treated  us  he'd  make  it  unpleasant 
for  you?"  "  I  don't  know,"  said  the  manager;  "per- 
haps you  had  better  try."  "  Well,  1  would  if  I  only  knew 
your  name.''  "There's  no  trouble  about  that;  my  name 
is  Schoeffel."  The  dancer  took  out  a  sheet  of  paper,  and 
putting  it  against  the  wall,  began  to  write.  "  How  do 
you  spell  it?  "  The  manager  seized  the  paper  and  wrote 
in  a  large,  rolling  hand,  "John  B.  Schoeffel,"  and  gave  it 
to  the  dancer.  "  Now,"  said  the  latter,  "  I'll  give  you 
three-quarters  of  a  column  in  the  Clipper."  Three  minutes 
later  Smith  came  up-stairs,  and,  shaking  a  paper  in  the 
manager's  face,  said,  "I  thought  you  weren't  going  to 
issue  any  passes  to-night?  I  sent  these  fellows  up  to  you, 
and  in  ten  minutes  they  came  back,  threw  that  pass  at 
me  and  said  that  at  least  the  manager  of  the  concern  was 
a  gentleman."  Schoeffel  said,  "  No,  that's  my  signature; 
but  look  at  that '  Pass  two  '  written  over  it.  Does  that 
look  like  my  writing?  " 

When  a  play  don't  draw  in  New  York,  the  extent  to 
which  the  house  will  be  papered  is  something  appalling. 
And  sometimes  you  will  never  know  it,  but  keep  as 
steadily  imagining  that  the  theatre  is  doing  a  tremendous 
business,  and  that  it  won't  be  long  before  the  manager 
begins  to  build  rows  of  brown-stone  French  plats  up-town. 
And  all  the  time  the  manager  is  wondering  how  he  can 
ever  be  able  to  rake  together  enough  to  pay  salaries  on 
the  next  Monday.  How  is  it  done?  It's  the  easiest  thing 
in  the  world. 

The  agent  of  the  theatre  takes  a  pocketful  of  seats,  so 
selected  that  they  are  by  no  means  bunched,  and  starts 
out  on  a  distributing  cruise.  It  is  his  design  to  dispose  of 
his  deadhead  tickets  to  people  of  the  utmost  respectability 
and  social  position.  He  wants  the  occupants  of  the  stalls 
to  be  well  dressed,  and  has  no  objection  to  diamonds  being 
worn  by  the  ladies. 

He  manages  to  secure  this  exclusive  clientele  without 
knowing  one  of  them,  in  the  following  manner  : 

Entering  a  big  store  like  Lord  A  Taylor's,  he  goes  to  the 

floor-walker  and  hands  linn  twenty  or  thirty  seats,  the 

best  for  the  walker  himself.    The  man  knows  what  to  do. 

When  Mrs.  De  Courcv  or  Mrs.  M^"fnaorency  roll  up  to 


the  door  and  saunter  into  the  establishment  in  quest  of 
lace  or  gloves,  the  floor-walker,  who  is  on  terms  of  easv 
familiarity  with  all  old  customers,  presents  the  tickets, 
after  ascertaining  that  the  evening  is  free. 

That  night  at  dinner  old  Montmorency  and  De  Courcy 
are  informed  that  they  are  to  go  to  the  play.  The  carriage* 
rattle  up  to  the  entrance,  and  as  the  deadheads  get  out 
and  sweep  pompously  to  their  gratuitous  places  the  loung- 
ers become  simultaneously  impressed  with  the  high-toned 
character  of  the  audience,  and  the  success  of  the  attrac- 
tion. 

It  is  related  of  Sothern  that  he  obtained  his  foothold  in 
London  by  papering  the  house  for  two  weeks  and  turning 
many  away. 

Deadheadism  is  a  disease.  It  belongs  to  the  same  fasci- 
nating category  with  free-lunches.  I  know  a  gentleman 
of  wealth  who  will  pay  cab-hire  to  visit  the  opening  of  a 
new  saloon  where  something  to  eat  and  drink  can  be  had 
for  nothing,  and  it  is  equally  true  that  once  the  mania 
gets  its  fangs  into  a  theatre-goer,  once  he  has  tasted  blood 
he  is  N.  G.  for  all  purposes  of  profit,  so  far  as  the  house  is 
concerned. 

You  can't  call  it  meanness.  When  I  was  dramatic 
critic  of  the  Missionaries'  Beacon  ol  Light,  a  paper  published 
many  years  ago  in  the  Bible  House,  I  had  a  chum  whom 
I  used  to  take  to  the  theatre. 

He  was  always  intoxicated  with  delight,  (later  on  in  the 
evening  it  was  rum  and  molasses)  at  the  prospect  bt  get- 
ting something  for  nothing,  and  insisted  upon  my  having 
supper  with  him  in  the  Old  Tom's  Chop  House,  in 
Thames  street,  now  gone. 

That  and  the  grog  between  acts,  together  with  the  Welsh 
rarebit  and  the  Scotch  ale  at  the  old  Shakspeare  saloon 
on  Broadway,  below  Ihirteenth  street,  before  we  went 
home  to  dream  that  our  dead  and  gone  grandmothers  were 
throwing  back  somersaults  on  our  stomachs,  used  to  make 
his  dollar  and  a  half  seat  cost  him  about  $10. 

But  he  was  none  the  less  convinced  that  he  was  a  devil- 
ish lucky  dog,  and  that  to  get  ahead  of  the  theatre  was 
about  equal  to  winning  f  >attle. 

You  see  the  same  spiri  among  railroad  deadheads.  The 
man  who  has  been  stung  by  a  pass  never  recovers.  If  he 
has  to  pay  for  a  ticket  he  is  almost  mad  enough  to  wish 
there  might  be  an  accident,  so  that  he  could  get  mashed 
and  go  in  for  damages  against  the  company. 

The  bill-board  and  window  lithograph  tickets  have  their 
especial  nights,  but  as  with  the  papers,  it  is  a  case  of  fair 
exchange  with  their  holders. 

In  the  country  (he  pressure  is  terrible.  T.  B.  Pugh,  the 
veteran  mr.nager,  tells  the  following  story.  I  clip  itfrom 
the  Philadelphia  Timet.: 

"  The  Fosters,  of  Pittsburg,  were  playing  at  Bucyrus 
Ohio.    Richard  III.  was  announced,  and  when 8  o'clock 
came  a  single  man  sat  solitary  and  alone  in  the  middle  of 
the  orchestra.    There  was,  of  course,  the  usual  collection 
of  country  youths  before  the  door,  and  the  manager  looked 
into  the  empty  hall  and  said:  'Come,  this  won'tdo;  we 
might  as  well  throw  open   the  doors  and  invite  them  all 
in.'    The  company  were  called  together  in  the  meantime, 
and.  after  some  discussion,  it  was  decided  that  the  towns- 
people should  not  come  in  free.    It  would  encourage  dead- 
headism, at  iho  same  time  establishing  adangerous  prece- 
i  dentin  the  town.    So  the  audience  of  one  cho>c  an  eligible 
j  po  ition,  ;  nd,  cocking  his  feet  on  the  seat  in  front  of  him, 
'  waited  for  the  performance  to  begin.    The  curtain  was 
|  rung  up  and  the  play  commenoed.     Never  did  the  actors 
[  do  better.   The  audience  applauded  vigorously  at  different 
points,  and  at  times  insisted  upon  un  encore,  which  the 
company.  Impressed  with  the  Ludicroosneu  of  the  situa- 
tion, gracefully  responded  to." 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


17 


There  is  a  very  neat  idea  just  gotten  out  by  an  enter- 
prising lager  beer  man  on  Fourteenth  street.  In  addition 
to  selling  good  beer,  he  furnishes  a  concert  every  evening. 
To  obtain  an  audience  he  issues  regular  tickets  with 
"  Admission— One  Dollar"  prominently  printed  at  the 
bottom  of  the  card.  Across  the  face  is  stamped  in  red 
figures  the  word  "  Complimentarj ." 

Now  the  joke  is  this,  one  of  course  which  was  not  in- 
tended by  the  proprietor:  You  take  a  handful  of  these 
tickets  and  have  them  always  with  you. 

Knowing  that  you  are  a  newspaper  man,  Mr.  Deadhead 
on  the  street,  or  Mr.  Deadhead  in  the  hotel  or  boarding 
house,  swoops  down  upon  you  with: 

"Got  any  tickets  about  you  ?  I'd  like  to  go  somewheres 
to-ni^ht." 

"  How  are  you  on  concerts?"  you  ask. 

"  Bang-up  concerts?" 

"Dollar  a  ticket." 

That  lands  him.    He  eagerly  replies: 

44  Certainly.    A  fine  concert  is  one  of  the  most  enjoyable 


entertainments  in  the  world.   How  many  can  you  spare  ?" 

"  I'll  give  you  two." 

"  Couldn't  you  make  it  three  ?  that's  a  good  fellow.  My 
maiden  aunt,  a  prim  old  lady,  who  has  money  and  a  dis- 
eased liver,  is  on  making  us  a  visit.  She  wouldn't  go  to 
the  wicked  theatre,  but  a  concert " 

So  you  squeeze  out  the  third  ticket.  The  delighted 
gentleman  rushes  up  stairs  to  get  his  ladies  ready. 

Your  plan  then  is  to  get  to  the  beer  saloon  in  advance, 
and,  concealed  behind  a  post  or  the  harmonicum.  calmly 
await  the  moment  when  Mr.  Deadhead,  Mrs.  Deadhead 
and  the  aunt  with  the  liver  complaint  come  sailing  in. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  them  will  be  the  Schweitzer 
lease,  and  then 

But  why  continue  the  picture  ?  Let  us  pause  here  and 
cipher  on  how  much  the  aunt  will  leave  the  young  man 
when  the  liver  has  done  its  fell  work,  and  the  maiden 
aunt  has  gone  to  join  the  shadowy  deadhead  audience  that 
crowds  the  dim  theatre  of  the  Future,  watching  the  play 
that  has  no  last  act— the  drama  of  Eternity. 


HOTEL    HORRORS. 


I  was  sitting  in  the  lobby  of  the  Sturtevant  House  the 
other  night,  waiting  to  hear  from  the  bell-boy  who  had 
taken  my  card  to  a  political  friend  who  had  lately  arrived 
from  the  South,  when  my  mind  got  running  on  the  Wal- 
worth tragedy,  which,  as  you  know,  occurred  in  this 
hotel. 

Frank  Walworth  is  now  living  in  the  strictest  seclusion 
with  his  mother  in  Saratoga,  and  since  she,  a  most  esti- 
mable woman,  sanctioned  both  at  his  trial  and  since,  the 
taking  of  a  father's  life  by  a  son,  I  have  no  editorial 
opinion  to  express  on  the  subject. 

Mansfield  Tracy  Walworth  was  a  literary  gentleman 
who  appears  to  have  been  in  the  habit  of  abusing  his 
family.  This  is  a  peculiarity  of  some  literary  gentlemen. 
In  the  case  of  the  Walworths,  they  did  not  take  kindly  to 
it,  and  young  Frank,  suffering  under  the  greatest  excite- 
ment, visited  New  York,  put  up  at  the  Sturtevant,  sent 
for  his  father,  and  in  the  quarrel  which  ensued  in  the 
room,  shot  him. 

He  was  tried,  brilliantly  defended  by  Charles  O'Conor, 
convicted  of  murder  in  the  second  degree,  and  sentenced 
to  imprisonment  for  life. 

His  mind  gave  way  under  the  affliction,  and  he  was  re- 
moved to  the  insane  asylum,  from  which  he  was  subse- 
quently released  by  gubernatorial  clemency. 

While  pondering  on  this  case,  it  suddenly  struck  me 
that  nearly  every  metropolitan  hotel  of  any  importance 
has  had  either  its  horrible  murder  or  shocking  suicide. 

I  purpose  to  write  in  this  sketch  of  two  or  three  that 
occur  to  me  now,  and  may  hereafter,  if  I  feel  in  the  gory 
humor,  continue  the  crimson  list. 

A  hotel  murder  that  has  almost  been  forgotten,  and  one 
that  was  opulent  with  all  the  elements  of  romance,  was 
the  assassination  of  the  beautiful  Virginia  Stewart,  who 
was  shot  to  death  on  the  s*teps  of  the  Brandreth  House, 
Canal  street  and  Broadway,  on  the  23rd  day  of  July,  1859, 
by  her  lover,  Robert  C.  MacDonald. 

The  murderer  was  a  North  Carolinian  of  good  family. 
He  was  elegant  and  dressy  in  his  appearance.  By  suc- 
cessful cotton  speculations  he  accumulated  a  large  sum 


of  money,  and  when  chance  threw  him  in  the  way  of 
Miss  Stewart  he  was  a  man  of  considerable  means. 

The  passion  was  a  mutual  one,  and  all  would  have  been 
well,  if  MacDonald  had  not  taken  to  drink.  Miss  Stewart 
naturally  "soured"  on  him,  and  when  she  in  the  South 
saw  no  promise  of  reform  she  left  her  tipsy  sweetheart 
and  came  to  New  York. 

MacDonald  discovered  her  flight  and  determined  to  fol- 
low her.  He  did  so.  Reaching  New  York  he  put  up  at 
the  Metropolitan  Hotel,  but  frequented  the  bar  a  great 
deal  more  than  his  room.  Naturally  enough  he  soon  ar- 
rived at  a  state  of  delirium,  and  became  the  possessor  of 
of  an  imaginary  snake  foundry. 

In  this  delectable  condition  he  roved  the  streets  of  the 
city,  searching  for  his  false  mistress. 

At  that  time  Taylor's  saloon  with  its  pier  glasses  and 
gilded  columns,  was  at  Broadway  and  Franklin  street. 
It  was  the  ban  ton  place  of  resort  for  the  thirsty  and 
hungry.  Staggering  in  there  one  day  Mr.  MacDonald 
sighted  his  beautiful  quarry,  lunching  at  a  table  with  a 
lady  friend. 

Taking  a  seat  at  a  table  opposite,  he  called  for  a  bottle 
of  wine,  which  he  drank  in  two  or  three  bumpers,  watch- 
ing the  women  attentively  all  the  time. 

When  they  had  finished  their  lunch,  he  arose  too  and 
followed  them  to  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Canal 
street. 

I  here  quote  from  an  account  of  what  happened  then  : 

They  turned  a  corner  to  go  into  the  Brandreth  House, 
and  just  then  MacDonald  stepped  up  to  Miss  Stewart  and 
importuned  her  for  an  interview.  She  refused  and  told 
him  to  go  away  and  not  annoy  her.  He  then  said  ex- 
citedly : 

"  I  am  told  you  are  living  with  another  man.  Is  that 
so?" 

No  reply  save  a  contemptuous  glance,  and  Miss  Stewart 
turned  to  go. 

With  that  MacDonald  put  his  hand  in  his  breast  and 
drew  out  a  Colt's  navy  revolver.  Divining  his  purpose, 
Miss  Stewart  cried  aloud  for  assistance,  and  ran  towards 


18 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


the  entrance  of  the  hotel.    MacDoaald   bounded   like   a 
panther  after  her,  and,  placing  the  pistol  almost  against  j 
her   head,   fired.    She   fell   senseless   upon  the  step,  her 
beautiful  hair  all  dabbled  with  blood. 

A  Mr.  E.  Van  Raust,  who  was  standing  there,  immedi- 
ately threw  himself  upon  MacDonald.  A  deadly  combat 
now  ensued  for  the  possession  of  the  pistol,  it  being  evi- 
dent that  the  murderer  intended  to  take  his  own  life.  As- 
sistance was  finally  procured  and  MacDonald  was  over- 
powered and  removed  to  the  Tombs.  Miss  Stewart  was 
taken  to  a  hospital. 

She  lingered  eight  or  ten  days  imagining  herself  in 
Richmond.    Then  she  died. 

While  in  the  Tombs  MacDonald  lived  in  a  regal  way, 
having  a  colored  waiter  from  the  Metropolitan  in  con- 
stant attendance  upon  him. 

In  his  possession  was  found  the  following  letter: 
"  Jolm  W.  Smith,  Mobile,  Ala.: 

"Dear  Sin— I  am  about  to  commit  that  which  will 
astonish  you  and  most  of  my  friends  in  Mobile.  I  have 
left  some  instructions  with  Messrs.  Simeon  Leland  &  Co. 
in  regard  to  my  body,  but  have  since  drawn  $300  of  the 
amount  I  first  wanted,  leaving  $1,500  in  their  hands, 
which,  after  deducting  my  expenses,  will  be  remitted  to 
you.    Affectionately  yours  forever,  Bob. 

"  P.  S.— And  to  you  who  find  my  body  have  my  trunks 
opened,  and  you  will  see  a  letter  addressed  to  the  Messrs. 
Leland  in  regard  to  the  disposition  of  my  remains.  Bury 
me  with  my  beard  on.  Robt.  C.  MacDonald." 

He  engaged  splendid  counsel,  and  boasted  that  he  would 
never  be  hanged. 

Among  his  visitors  was  a  lady  who  talked  through  the 
grated  door  of  his  cell.  By  means  of  a  powerful  letter 
she  obtained  an  interview  with  him.  Undoubtedly  she 
gave  him  the  bottle  of  Muir's  Elixir  of  Opium  with  which 
he  committed  suicide. 

That  was  twenty  years  ago,  but  the  hotel  tragedy 
business  has  been  kept  up  pretty  steadily.  It  is  too  warm 
to  recollect  some  of  the  old  timers,  but  I  will  hunt 
them  up. 

The  killing  of  Samuel  Adams  by  John  C.  Colt  was  done 
in  the  building  at  the  northwest  corner  of  Broadway  and 
Chambers  street.  It  is  a  clothing  store  now,  and  since 
the  murder  has  been  used  by  Delmonico.  It  was  not  a 
hotel  at  the  time  of  the  dreadful  deed— Friday,  Sept.  17, 
1841— but  at  one  time  the  building  had  been  used  for  hotel 
purposes,  aad  so  it  comes  in  the  list. 

Colt  was  a  writing  master.  He  also  taught  bookkeep- 
ing. He  owed  Adams  a  bill  for  printing,  and  on  that 
Friday  afternoon  Adams  went  to  collect  it. 

They  quarreled,  and  Adams  called  Colt  a  liar. 

The  latter  picked  up  a  hammer,  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  printer  was  as  dead  as  a  door  nail. 

The  choice  of  weapons  would  seem  to  suggest  that  per- 
haps Colt  mistook  him  for  one. 

The  story  of  the  after  attempt  to  escape  detection  by 
packing  the  body  m  salt  and  shipping  it  to  New  Orleans, 
the  discovery,  arrest,  trial,  conviction  and  suicide  while 
they  were  rigging  the  rope  to  hang  him,  are  too  well 
known  to  need  repetition. 

If  Ned  Stokes,  wlio  was  strolling  down  Broadway  on  the 
afternoon  of  Saturday,  Jan.  G,  1872,  hadn't  seen  or  imag- 
ined that  be  saw  a  pretty  woman  waving  her  handker- 
chief tO  him  at  a  parlor  window  of  the  Grand  Central 
Hod  -l,  be  might  never  have  crossed  the  street  at  that  time 
and  place. 

urally  ho  would  not  have  been  at  the  head  of  the 
private    taircase  Jutt  as  the  boy  opened  the  door  to  admit 
•  i  Jaxneft  Flak,  Jr. 


And  he  \n  ould  not  have  shot  the  dazzling  operator  as  he 
did. 

It  was  highly  probable,  however,  that  the  murder  would 
have  taken  place  some  where.  New  York  city  at  that  time 
wasn't  big  enough  to  hold  Josie  Mansfield,  Jim  Fiskand 
Stokes  all  at  once. 

It  was  a  moral  certainty  that  Fisk  was  armed,  but  the 
position  of  the  two  men  gave  Stokes  the  advantage. 

Stokes  was  just  in  the  act  of  descending  the  stair.  Seven 
steps  from  the  street  is  a  platform,  and  Fisk  had  reached 
that  when,  glancing  up,  he  discovered  Stokes.  One  ac- 
count says: 

' '  There  was  a  mutual  movement.  Stokes  leaped  swiftly 
to  one  side,  as  if  to  avoid  something,  ran  his  gloved  hand  into 
the  pocket  of  his  coat,  produced  a  four-barreled  revolver 
and  fired,  quick  as  thought,  at  Fisk. 

The  ball  struck  the  Colonel  in  the  abdomen,  two  inches 
to  the  right  of  the  navel  and  three  above  it.  As  soon  as  he 
felt  the  perforation  he  staggered  up  against  the  wall  and 
made  the  single  exclamation,  "  Oh !"  Another  flash, 
another  report,  and  his  left  arm  fell,  shattered.  He 
turned  to  run,  staggered  and  fell.  He  was  carried  to  room 
213.  Stokes  went  down  stairs  and  surrendered  himself  to 
Mr.  Powers,  the  proprietor. 

We  know  the  rest. 

The  last  time  I  heard  of  the  handsome  Stokes  he  was  out 
West  engaged  in  mining  speculations.  His  hair  is  almost 
white. 

If  the  Gilsev  House  had  never  been  built  William  Foster 
might  never  have  committed,  on  the  26th  of  April,  1871, 
the  murder  for  which  he  was  subsequently  hanged  in  the 
Tombs  yard. 

Why  is  this  statement  true  f 

No  Gilsey  House  and  there  would  have  oeen  no  illumi- 
nated clock,  shining  high  in  the  ornamental  tower  like  a 
painted  moon. 

No  clock  and  William  Foster,  who  on  the  night  in 
question  was  riding  on  the  front  platform  of  a  Broadway 
car,  in  which  were  Avery  D.  Putnam,  Madame  Duval  and 
her  daughter,  would  not  have  alluded  to  the  time  piece 
in  some  insulting  manner,  first  attracting  the  attention 
of  the  young  lady. 

He  would  not  have  come  in  and  sat  down  beside  the 
ladies,  making  himself  generally  objectionable. 

Mr.  Putnam  would  not  have  had  cause  to  remonstrate 
with  him,  and  then  of  course  the  following  question 
would  not  have  been  addressed  by  Foster  to  the  unfortu- 
nate Mr.  Putnam. 

"  Say,  how  far  are  you  going  up  ?" 

There  was  no  reply  to  this  drunken  query.  After  rock- 
ing in  his  seat  for  a  moment  and  leering  at  the  women 
Foster  added,  as  if  it  were  the  result  of  reflection  upon 
the  matter: 

"Well  I'm  going  as  far  as  you  and  before  you  get  out 
I  11  give  you  hell.'' 

When  the  car  stopped  at  46th  street,  Foster  watched 
his  opportunity  and  coming  behind  Mr.  Putnam  with  a 
car-hook  crushed  in  his  skull  at  a  single  blow. 

Not  only  was  Foster  ably  defended,  but  when  he  was 
sentenced  the  most  strenuous  exertions  were  made  to 
savo  his  neck.  I  remember  that  a  Mrs.  Bishop  went 
around  the  city  with  a  petition  to  the  governor  that  had 
about  a  mile  of  names  to  it. 

ned  mine,  Inn  it  was  the  heart  and  not  the  reason 
that  dictated  the  act.  If  ever  a  man  deserved  to  bo  hanged 

It  w  as  Foster. 

If  we  cannot  go  out  with  ladies  in  the  city  of  New  York 
without  having  them  insulted  and  our  own  lives  en- 
dangered by  the  attack  of  drunken  beasts  in  human  form, 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


id 


then  civilization  s  indeed  a  failure,  and  the  Caucasian 
had  better  hand  tne  belt,  to  the  moon-eyed  Mongolian. 

I  saw  Foster  hanged  and  want  to  call  attention  again 
to  the  unseemly  torture  to  which  he  was  subjected  by 
some  clerical  ass,  who  read  dreary  prayers  and  inter- 
minable bits  of  scripture  while  the  doomed  man  and 
everybody  else  was  perishing  with  the  cold. 

The  Coleman  House  has  not  had  its  murder,  but  it  can 
boastof  a  shooting  scrape.  "  Birdie  "  Bell,  itwill  be  re- 
collected, attempted  the  life  there  of  Washington 
Nathan. 

The  papers  were  full  of  romantic  accounts,  but  the 
transaction  never  amounted  to  much.  It  was  .probably 
a  sentimental  "  tiff,"  which  the  young  people  had  no 
difficulty  in  arranging.  At  any  rate  it  never  got  into  the 
courts. 

Speaking  of  this  incident  reminds  one  of  the  Nathan 
murder  in  Twenty-third  street,  directly  opposite  a  win- 
flow  of  the  Fifth  avenue  Hotel  at  which  Montgomery  Blair 
was  sitting  at  the  time. 

The  Metropolitan  had  its  recent  murder  in  the  death  of 
a  policeman  at  the  hands  of  a  maniac  boarder  to  disarm 
whom  the  officer  entered  the  room. 

At  the  Brunswick  a  young  Hollander,  rich,  with  lots  of 
money,  in  perfect  health,  committed  suicide  because  he 


fancied  some  one  had  insulted  him  on  the  voyage  from 
Europe. 

P.  S.— Apropos  of  the  Cincinnati  affair  and  my  men- 
tioning Washington  Nathan's  Coleman  House  scrape  I 
clip  the  following  from  the  Sim  of  Oct.  15th.  For  the 
shooting  in  the  Coleman  House  Justice  Murray  granted  a 
warrant  for  Mrs.  Barrett's  arrest.  Soon  afterward  Mr. 
Nathan  went  to  Europe,  and  nothing  further  was  heard  of 
the  complaint  until  yesterday.  Washington  Nathan  then 
appeared  in  the  Yorkville  Police  Court  and  conversed 
privately  with  Justice  Murray.  A  summons  was  made 
out  demanding  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Barrett,  who  was  liv- 
ing under  the  name  of  Mrs.  T.  B.  Black  at  300  East  Fifty- 
third  street.  Mr.  Nathan  said  that  he  apprehended  per- 
sonal violence  from  Mrs.  Barrett.  The  summons  were 
served  by  Policeman  Foley.  Mr.  Nathan  advised  him  to 
act  carefully,  as  Mrs.  Barrett  might  use  firearms.  Mrs. 
Barrett  accepted  the  summons  calmly, and  said  she  would 
be  in  court.  At  3  p.  m.  Mr.  Nathan  and  his  lawyer,  ex- 
Judge  Cardozo,  were  in  Justice  Murray's  private  room. 
Mrs.  Barrett  arrived  soon  afterward.  Half  an  hour  later 
Justice  Murray  stepped  from  his  room  and  said:  "  There 
has  been  a  strange  scene  inside.  Mrs.  Barrett  is  crying 
and  Mr.  Nathan  is  standing  over  her.  He  has  given  her 
money.    It  is  all  settled.    No  complaint  was  taken." 


PRIVATE    GAMING    ESTABLISHMENTS. 


A  friend  of  mine  used  to  surprise  me  by  the  elaborate 
nature  of  his  dress  and  the  untailing  yield  of  his  pocket 
money. 

It  wasn't,  of  course,  a  remarkable  thing  to  be  well  ap- 
pareled and  to  always  possess  a  $20  bill;  but  the  singular 
part  of  it  was  that,  while  enjoying  no  income,  while 
being  in  the  receipt  of  no  set  sum  from  lawyers  and  trus- 
tees, he  nevertheless  did  no  work,  didn't  toil,  didn't  spin, 
but  laid  way  over  Solomon  on  suits  of  clothes,  shoes,  hats, 
gloves,  canes,  etc. 

So  I  said  to  him  one  day  in  my  usual  romantic  manner: 

"Prithee,  my  brave  boy,  how  is  it  that  you  do  this 
thing?  Give  me  the  office.  The  wink,  tip  him  to  me.  I 
would  fain  the  labor  give  him  up,  the  shovel  and  the  hoe, 
throw  them  down." 

So  he  took  me  into  a  place  where  they  sold  May  wine,  a 
charmingly  seductive  beverage  with  strawberries  floating 
about  it,  and  gave  me  the  points.  I  shall  quote  his  exact 
words  as  near  as  I  can  recall  them: 

"You  know,"  he  began,  "  that  I  have  nice  rooms  up 
town,  and  that  no  one  bothers  me  in  the  house.  Some  of 
my  married  gentlemen  friends  and  a  few  bachelor  ac- 
quaintances like  a  quietgame  of  draw-poker  occasionally, 
say  one  night  in  a  week.  They  can't  play  very  well  at 
their  homes  on  account  of  their  wives,  who  always 
Imagine  that  when  a  man  bets  a  dollar  on  a  card,  provided 
there  is  a  brandy  decanter  near,  he  is  going  straight  to 
th<  devil. 

"  In  this  dreary  desert  of  despair  my  rooms  loom  up  as 
an  oasis.  I  have  plenty  of  liquor.  I  have  cards,  and  a  set 
us  regular  red,  white  and  blue  chips.  So  they  form  a  little 
club,  after  getting  my  permission,  and  on  Saturday  even- 
Lnga  we  play.  Owing  to  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  apart- 
m<  iit— for  they  all  get  drunk— and  the  cost  of  the  rum,  I 
am  allowed  a  certain  small  percentage  of  the  pools." 


He  stopped  as  if  he  had  finished.  I  looked  up  and  saw 
him  gazing  intently  at  the  ceiling. 

"  But  that  don't  account  for  a  life  of  gorgeous  idleness, 
for  going  about  like  an  animated  fashion  plate,  and  for 
always  being  flush." 

"Well,  you  know,  Paul,"  he  added,  slowly,  "that  I 
never  drink  anything  on  such  occasions  but  sherry?" 

"Yes." 

"  And  that  I  am  a  pretty  good  poker  player  ?  Fortune 
seems  to  smile  on  me." 

"  Not  always." 

"No;  but  I  am  tolerably  sure  of  her  gracious  counte- 
nance when  I  have  the  deal.  It's  a  mere  coincidence,  of 
course,  but  it's  a  remarkable  one." 

The  idea3  gained  over  two  or  three  glasses  of  May  wine 
explained  to  me  the  existence  of  several  other  gentlemen 
whom  I  knew,  and  by  pursuing  the  subject  I  found  that 
there  was  then— it  was  only  last  spring— as  there  is  now, 
a  perfect  system  of  private  gambling  in  this  city,  which 
seems  an  appalling  spectacle  of  sin  when  considered  in 
the  aggregate. 

I  do  not  refer  to  the  clubs.  I  belong  to  several  of  those 
seductive  institutions,  and  know  that  the  most  solid  of 
them  are  houses  of  cards.  But  I  allude  to  private  houses, 
or  elegant  rooms  like  those  of  my  friend,  where  it  is  possi- 
ble to  hear  the  rat-tat  tat  of  the  roulette  ball  and  the  click 
of  the  faro  checks.  In  many  instances  there  is  no  idea  of 
the  gentleman  who  backs  the  game  making  a  cent  out  of 
it.  He  is  content  with  the  natural  mathematical  advan- 
tages. Quite  frequently,  too,  the  dealer  is  changed  every 
night.  The  prime  object  is  to  have  a  den  where  the  tiger 
can  be  fought  without  the  noise  of  the  combat  reaching 
the  ears  of  the  outside  world. 

By  special  invitation  I  was  present  during  the  summer 
at  one  of  the  sittings.    The  lady  of  the  house,  with  her 


80 


GLIMPSES    OF    GOTHAM. 


children,  was  at  Newport,  where  the  husband  couldn't 
join  her  on  account  of  having  to  take  off  at  night  an  ac- 
count of  stock  at  the  store.  At  least  that  is  what  he  wrote 
in  the  postscript  of  one  of  his  letters. 

The  players  met  at  dinner,  the  expense  of  which  was 
mutually  contributed.  It  was  a  fine  dinner,  with  at  least 
two  quarts  of  the  "  widow  "  to  each  man. 

In  this  prime  and  primed  condition  we  began  to  play, 
selecting  the  library  for  that  purpose.  I  went  in  for  $10 
worth  of  chips,  just  out  of  courtesy  to  the  host,  and  with 
a  sneaking  desire,  which  a  man  always  possesses  under 
such  circumstances,  to  pay  for  my  dinner. 

I  knew  I  had  no  staying  qualities  that  would  compare 
with  those  of  the  jolly  old  bucks  about  me,  and  soon  let 
myself  out  of  the  game. 

Then  I  took  aglass  of  brandy,  and  getting  a  book,  sought 
the  corner  of  a  luxurious  sofa  that  had  been  wheeled  up 
near  a  shaded  lamp. 

I  fell  asleep,  and  when  I  awoke  the  grey  of  the  morning 
was  coming  through  the  windows.  The  lamps  and  gas 
jets,  mixed  with  the  daylight,  gave  a  spectral  hue  to  the 
apartment  and  to  the  haggard  faces  of  the  men,  who, 
with  blood-shot  eyes  and  feverish  hands,  were  still  bend- 
ing over  the  cards. 

They  knocked  off  at  nine  o'clock  and  we  had  breakfasi. 
But  how  different  from  the  dinner.  Even  the  winners 
were  cross  and  snappy.  One  young  man  breakfasted  on 
brandy  alone,  and  left  the  house  hurriedly. 

He  had  lost  $1,500  during  the  night— his  savings  for 
years  toward  marriage.  He  had  filled  up  a  check  on  the 
bank  where  he  kept  his  account,  for  the  amount,  and  had 
then  rushed  from  the  house  to  do  what  ? 

To  commit  suicide  ? 

No,  my  friends,  not  to  commit  suicide. 

This  was  a  pious  young  man  who  had  been  brought  up 
to  believe  that  it  was  wicked  to  take  one's  life. 

He  resolved  to  bear  the  burden  as  best  he  could. 

What  did  he  do  upon  emerging  from  the  house  that  had 
been  the  scene  of  his  ruin  ? 

He  went  to  a  barber's  shop,  got  dosed  with  bay  rum, 
and  then  jumping  into  a  coupe,  reached  the  bank  just  as 
the  paying  teller  was  letting  down  his  little  glass  window 

That  pious  young  man  drew  another  check  for  $1,498,76, 
and  got  the  money.    He  was  married  that  afternoon. 

But  if  you  want  to  hear  a  man  inveigh  against  the  evils 
Of  gambling;  if  you  want  to  listen  to  an  eloquent  denun- 
ciation of  the  vice,  go  up  to  his  little  Harlem  flat  and  take 
tea  with  him. 

No  gambling  there. 

"There  isn't  a  card  in  the  house,"  says  the  wife;  "John 
won't  even  play  '  old  maid.'  " 

"  No,  sir,"  John  hotly  answers,  "  it's  a  terrible  mania, 
and  is  dangerous  in  its  humblest  disguise." 

In  the  meantime  the  winner  of  the  $1,500  has  still  in 
his  possession  a  check  for  that  amount. 

It  is  a  pretty  check,  with  the  vignette  of  a  handsome 
woman  in  the  corner,  and  a  regulation  revenue  stamp 
on  it. 

But  there  is  one  peculiar  thing  about  it;  some  one  has 
stamped  across  the  face  "  no  funds." 

Short  card  games  are  naturally  the  mode  in  private 
houses,  but  there  are  respectable  members  of  society 
here,  who  give  largely  to  all  charitable  purposes,  who  are 
so  fond  of  the  sport  that  they  have  regular  faro  lay-outs, 
keno  wheels  and  other  expensive  machinery. 

I,  myself,  have  satin  the  parlor  of  a  sugar  merchant, 
who  is  one  of  the  most  responsible  men  in  the  business, 
played  keno  at  25  cents  a  card  with  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ters, and  gentlemen,  who,  like  myself,  haO.  dropped  in  for 
the  evening. 


"  There  can't  be  any  harm  in  it,can  there  be,  Mr.  Prow- 
ler?" asked  of  me  a  pretty  miss  of  some  sixteen  winters 
and  four  Saratoga  summers. 

I  said  not  the  slightest.    It's  the  correct  thing  to  say. 

"  I  knew  it  all  along,"  she  continued;  "  it's  too  much 
like  '  Lotto '  to  be  wicked." 

But  all  the  same  you  see  your  quarters  disappear,  and 
I  never  knew  a  person  who  had  gone  broke  on  "  keno" 
derive  much  consolation  from  its  resemblance  to  Lotto. 

It's  a  good  game,  however,  to  play  when  women  take  a 
hand.  If  it  is  euchre  or  whist,  at  so  much  a  corner,  the 
average  male  player  is  fool  enough  in  a  chivalric  sense  to 
let  the  little  dears  win. 

But  at  keno  you  are  safe,  because  it's  a  community 
fighting  for  a  pool. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  New  York  does  not  possess 
establishments  where  ladies  can  gamble  real  hard. 

Just  as  there  are  dressmaking  shops  where  sherry  helps 
on  the  tight  fit,  and  sends  a  woman  home  with  fire  in  hre 
eyes  and  Satan  astraddle  of  her  tongue,  so  there  are  gam- 
ing  resorts  for  ladies— for  ladies,  mind  you — exclusively. 

One  of  them,  the  most  prominent,  has  been  but  lately 
broken  up. 

It  was  a  gigantic  affair,  run  by  a  firm  of  man  milli- 
ners. 

They  did  a  tremendous  business  with  the  best  people  in 
town.    Stylish  turn-outs  were  always  at  their  doors. 

The  rooms  up-stairs,  over  the  immense  sales  and  fitting 
apartments,  were  fitted  up  luxuriously  and  evidently  by 
a  female  upholsterer  with  a  good  eye  for  color  and  effect 
in  the  drapery  and  pictures. 

No  one  could  enter  these  chambers  save  by  a  pass-key 
obtainable  down-stairs  under  the  rose. 

There  was  never  any  noise.  All  the  servants  were  wo- 
men who  could  be  trusted.  And  there  the  fair  ones  gam- 
bled to  their  heart's  content,  playing  against  each  other 
with  a  recklessness  that  you  rarely  see  in  men. 

Many  a  woman  has  been  forced  to  cancel  an  order  down 
stairs  owing  to  the  unfortunate  run  of  the  cards. 

As  I  said,  this  place  was  broken  up,  and  in  what  I  con- 
sider a  mean  manner.  The  scamp  of  a  journalist  who 
made  the  exposure  should  have  remembered  that  all 
work  and  no  play— cards  makes  the  woman  a  dull  girl. 

But  he  didn't.  Having  got  an  inkling  of  the  fact,  he 
saw  only  the  sensation  article  within  his  grasp. 

It  was  of  course  utterly  impossible  for  him,  iu  his  per- 
sonality, to  obtain  any  information. 

You  might  as  well  attempt  to  smuggle  a  steamship 
stoker  into  the  sub-committee  appointed  by  Sorosis  to 
determine  how  long  a  dutiful  wife  should  mourn  for  a 
husband  who  never  earned  over  $5,000  a  year. 

So  he  utilized  his  sweet-heart. 

She  got  into  the  confidence  of  one  of  the  club,  and  on  one 
occasion  was  admitted,  under  guarantee,  to  the  rooms 

She  was  a  close  observer,  and  had  a  quick  ear.  All  she 
heard  and  saw  she  gave  dead  away  to  the  journalistic 
miscreant,  who  not  only  published  a  full  account  of  the 
games,  the  money  lost,  but  gave  a  list  of  the  names  of 
those  who  were  present. 

Greatgrief  I  maybe  there  wasn't  trouble  in  some  fam- 
ilies on  Murray  Hill !  Husbands  began  to  understand 
why  a  costume  that  used  to  cost  $150  was  now  worth  $500. 

All  this  is  shameful.  I  do  not  believe  in  exposing  pel  ty 
foibles  of  pretty  women.  Their  brutes  of  husbands 
play  billiards  for  drinks  down  town,  buy  lottery  tickets, 
and  belong  to  draw-poker  sociables.  Why  should  they 
not  divert  themselves  ? 

If  I  had  a  wife  I  would  rather  she  lost  my  money  play- 
ing cards  with  a  woman  than  that  she  should  save  it  by 
taking  luncheon  at  the  expense  of  a  gentleman. 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


21 


And  we  shouldn't  throw  stones  anyhow.  We  should 
remember  that  no  matter  how  humble  our  homes  may  be, 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  the  Crystal  Palace  about  all  of 
them. 

Another  species  of  semi-private  gambling  is  the  hotel 
"racket." 

A  man  with  the  capital  approaches  the  proprietor  of  the 
house— the  one  I  have  in  my  mind  now  used  to  be  in 
Courtland  street— and  arranges  for  a  couple  of  rooms. 

"  For  what  purpose  ?  " 

'   Business  purposes  "—and  they  are  explained. 

*'  I  shall  have  to  charge  you  more  than  schedule  rates." 

"  I  am  willing  to  pay  them." 

Under  these  circumstances  the  game  is  opened.  Sales- 
men stopping  at  the  hotel,  and  down-town  merchants  and 
clerks  are  the  patrons. 

To  go  into  an  Ann  street,  or  a  Barclay  street  day-game 
ts  to  become  a  marked  man,  But  to  walk  into  a  reputa- 
ble hotel,  and  go  to  the  third  or  fourth  floor  by  elevator  is 
something  at  which  no  one  can  cavil. 

These  games  frequently  do  a  big  business.  Many  a 
salesman  sent  out  by  a  Philadelphia  firm  to  disseminate 
their  patent  combination  cigar-holder  sleeve-button  gets 
no  further  than  this  faro  layout. 


There  he's  laid  out. 

You  will  notice,  nevertheless,  that  the  backers  of  those 
games  are  generally  willing  and  sometimes  anxious  to 
advance  enough  of  the  victim's  original  plunder  to  enable 
to  get  him  a  hundred  miles  in  some  direction  or  an- 
other. 

The  game  in  Courtland  street  was  knocked  among  the 
sky-scraping  kites  by  a  young  man  losing  all  he  had, 
even  to  his  head,  and  then  blowing  his  brains  out. 

The  proprietor  of  the  hotel  thought  it  was  a  strange 
transaction  on  the  part  of  the  young  man. 

I  fail  to  see  anything  strange  in  it. 

If  you  have  lost  your  head,  what  good  are  the  brains  ? 

Now,  to  have  a  head  and  no  brains  is  quite  a  different 
affair. 

Plenty  of  men  whom  we  all  know  are  in  that  predica- 
ment, and  experience  not  the  slightest  annoyance. 

The  situation  is  certainly  no  bar  to  political  prefer- 
ment and  social  success,  while  a  man  like  me,  who  is  all 
brain,  has  a  difficulty  sometimes  in  negotiating  a  short 
loan. 

If  you  don't  believe  I'm  all  brain,  come  and  see  the 
heads  I  have  on  me  in  the  morning. 


DIVORCES    WITHOUT    PUBLICITY. 


In  an  article  which  I  wrote  some  time  ago  I  described, 
it  will  be  remembered,  the  facility  with  which  people 
could  get  married  thanks  to  the  ingenuity  and  enterprise 
of  Emeline. 

You  will  pardon  me.  sir.  if  I  pause  here  a  moment  to 
weep  Tracing  that  name  has  brought  the  bright  eyes, 
the  saucy  mouth  and  bewitching  smile  before  me,  and  for 
a  moment  P.  P  is  not  himself. 

There  are  chords  as  you  know— cords  of  them,  and  we 
must  be  careful  how  we  do  the  vibrating. 

You  may  bo  surprised  that  I  so  seldom  mention  my 
gifted  and  erratic  friend.  Ah,  if  you  did  but  know  all. 
But  I  cannot  lay  my  heart  bare— at  least  not  during  the 
prevalence  of  a  low  temperature.  The  slight  misunder- 
standing between  us  may  yet  be  arranged,  and  then  you 
will  share  with  me,  through  these  articles,  the  wit,  the 
keenness,  the  pleasing  style  of  that  most  remarkable 
woman. 

She  promised  once  to  tell  me  her  life,  so  that  I  could 
weave  a  romance  from  it  for  the  Gazette.  If  she  only 
would  ! 

But  I  have  stopped  long  enough  for  one  weep.  Au  revoir, 
Emeline. 

I  repeat  that  it  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  now- 
adays to  get  married.  There  is  only  one  thing  easier— to 
got  divorced. 

And  you  don't  have  to  know  anything  about  it  yourself, 
if  you  arc  the  one  from  whom  the  divorce  is  obtained. 
That  is.  it  is  not  absolutely  necessary.  The  other  party, 
the  one  seeking  the  divorce,  man  or  wife  as  the  case  may 
be,  can  keep  the  legal  document  as  a  gentle  surprise,  a 
nice  little  arrangement  to  trot  forth  when  circumstances 
arc  ripe  for  it. 

It  was  only  a  few  weeks  ago  that  the  papers  had  the 
case  of  a  man  who  obtained  a  divorce  from  his  wife 
locked  it  up  in  his  desk,  said  nothing  about  it  and  lived 
with  her  ten  years. 


For  ten  years  she  was  his  mistress  and  didn't  know  it  1 

Pleasant,  isn't  it  ?  And  yet  it  all  comes  from  the  extreme 
facility  with  which  the  decree  of  separation  can  be  ob- 
tained. If  you  look  carefully  through  your  paper  you 
will  find  scores  of  lawyers  who  advertise  in  the  most  fla- 
grantly public  and  aboveboard  manner  that  their  special- 
ty is  putting  asunder  those  whom  God  has  joined  together. 

"Without  Publicity"  they  promise,  and  it  is  this 
"  under  tho  rose  "  part  of  the  business  which  brings  them 
so  many  clients. 

Let  us  imagine  ourselves  in  the  office  of  a  prominent 
firm  down  town.  They  are  on  Broadway,  and  have  ele 
gant  parlors.  Although  the  law  business  in  its  generality 
is  their  profession  they  have  in  some  manner  drifted  into 
untying  matrimonial  knots  almost  altogether,  "without 
publicity,"  of  course. 

The  spirits  in  the  cabinet  of  the  Davenport  Brothers  do 
not  disentangle  more  silently  the  cords  binding  the 
mediums  than  do  these  gentlemen  the  silken  chains,  too 
frequently  turned  to  gyves  of  iron,  of  matrimony. 

While  we  wait  an  elegantly  dressed  lady,  closely  veiled, 
enters.  The  clerk  motions  her  to  a  seat  and  vanishes  to 
see  if  either  of  the  principals  is  at  leisure.  He  returns  to 
report  that  Mr.  So-and-so  will  see  her  immediately,  and 
so  she  disappears  into  the  luxuriously  furnished  office  set 
aside  for  just  such  tete-a-ietes. 

If  we  could  follow  there  we  would  hear  the  fair  one,  her 
beauteous  face  uncovered  now,  pour  into  the  confidential 
ear  of  the  legal  luminary  a  tale  of  domestic  woe,  the  up- 
shot of  which  is  that  she  is  tired  of  her  husband  and 
wants  a  divorce. 

"  But  on  what  grounds,  madame  ?" 

"  Ah,  sir,  I  am  so  unhappy." 

"  Is  he  false  to  you?" 

"  I  do  not  know— I  hope  so.  I  fear  not.  Butcannot  yon 
ascertain?" 

"Certainly;   the  easiest  thing  in   the   world.     We'll 


23 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM, 


attend  to  that.  Don't  you  feel  the  slightest  uneasiness  on 
that  score,  madame." 

"You  are  so  kind." 

"  N  ot  at  all.    Has  he  ever  beaten  you  ?" 

"  No,  sir."' 

"  Nor  attempted  to  ?" 

"  He  once  picked  up  a  cologne  bottle  from  the  dressing 
table  in  a  very  threatening  manner." 

"  Ha  !  ha  I  he  did,  eh  ?  Made  an  attempt  to  dash  your 
brains  out  "vvith  a  bottle  ?" 

"  Sir,  I  did  not  say " 

"  Madame,  it  is  the  same  thing." 

The  lawyer  makes  copious  notes  and  then  says: 

"  Nothing  more  is  required  at  present.  This  direct  at- 
tempt upon  your  life  is  very  satisfactory,  and  will  weigh 
Avith  the  judge  out  in  Nevada,  if  we  have  to  go  so  far.  It 
maybe  possible  to  find  that  the  monster  has  a  mistress. 
If  that  is  the  case  we  needn't  cross  a  ferry." 

So  she  pays  tbe  retainer  fee  and  goes  down  to  her  car- 
riage. The  monster,  all  this  while,  is  utterly  unconscious 
of  the  net  that  fate  has  commenced  to  weave  about  him. 

I  may  have  cited  the  visit  of  the  lady  in  a  slightly  ex- 
aggerated way,  but  I  mean  every  word  of  it  in  all  serious- 
ness. Just  such  business  calls  are  made  every  day. 
Sometimes  it  is  the  husband  who  is  the  applicant. 

In  either  case,  where  there  are  no  grounds  alleged, 
there  is  always  a  desire  to  be  free  in  order  to  be  at  lib- 
erty to  enjoy  the  society  of  some  one  else.  A  man  or 
woman  in  the  back-ground  is  doing  the  prompting. 

This  you  can  gamble  on  every  time.  In  many  instances 
the  woman  simply  finds  it  impossible  to  live  longer  with 
her  husband.  He  abuses  her,  but  in  one  respect  resembles 
"Old  Dog  Tray." 

He  is  ever  faithful,  but  never  kind. 

These  are  a  tantalizing  sort  of  husband,  and  it  is  to  fix 
their  flints  that  the  divorce  bureaus  are  established  with 
connections  out  West  with  wild-cat  juries  and  judges  that 
would  grant  anything  for  five  dollars  and  a  drink. 

The  first  thing  to  do,  however,  is  to  endeavor  to  get  the 
dead  wood  on  the  old  man  here  in  New  York— to  prove 
him  guilty  of  adultery.  If  that  can  be  done  it  is  all  plain 
sailing. 

But  there  are  some  men  who  are  virtuous  simply  be- 
cause they  are  too  "  cussed"  mean  to  be  otherwise. 

In  order  to  handle  this  variety  the  legal  firm  resort  to 
that  branch  of  tactics  known  as  "  putting  up  a  job  !" 

One  of  the  firm's  agents  happens  to  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  gentleman,  who  is  all  unconscious  that  the 
wife  who  poured  him  out  his  coffee  that  morning  is  digging 
the  ground  from  under  his  feet  and  preparing  a  mine  that 
v.  ill  blow  him  up  "  among  the  little  stars  and  all  about 
the  moon." 

When  they  know  each  other  right  well  the  representa- 
tive of  the  lawyers  proposes  an  evening  about  town.  Per- 
haps in  an  evil  moment  the  old  gentleman  accepts.  The 
agent  has  plenty  of  money  and  does  the  champagne  act 
until  he  thinks  it  sure  to  propose  dropping  around  to  see 
some  ladies. 

If  the  game  is  very  wary  it  is  a  little  supper  that  is  ar- 
ranged and  the  ladies  happen  in.  They  know  their  bu.-i- 
and  the  one  who  succeeds  in  capturing  the  enemj 
is  sure  of  a  handsome  juice  from  the  high-toned  law- 
yers. 

it  isn't  at  all  surprising  under  such  circumstances  if  the 
obtaining  of  evidence  became  a  verj  easy  matter,  ah 
the  agent,  the  spy,  has  to  do,  Is  to  keep  his  eyes  open  and 
take  notes.  Be  knows,  also,  that  if  it  is  necessary  he  can 
at  any  time  obtain  the  affidavit  of  whatever  beauty  the 
poor,  deluded  victim  of  the  horrid  plot  eventually  deter- 
mines to  lancy. 


j  Nice  commentary  on  the  legal  profession  this,  and  yet 
every  word  of  it  is  true.  They  will  sometimes  go  to  still 
greater  lengths  and  suborn  witnesses  to  swear  away  a 
man's  character  for  fidelity  when  no  overt  act  of  adultery 
was  ever  committed. 

The  divorce  must  be  obtained  at  all  hazards. 

Where  the  husband  is  a  jolly,  good-natured  fellow,  who 
goes  freely  about  town,  all  this  evidence  business  is  very 
much  easier.  It  is  here  that  the  special  divorce  detective 
gets  his  lace-work  in. 

He  does  not  make  the  gentleman's  acquaintance  as  in 
the  other  case.  He  simply  becomes  his  shadow.  When 
he  starts  down  town  the  detective  is  on  the  front  platform 
of  the  same  car.  He  is  at  the  next  table  in  the  lunch- 
room ;  he  is  in  a  beer  saloon  opposite  the  club;  he  is  more 
faithful  in  his  attentions  than  the  person's  real  shadow, 
for  there  are  scientific  reasons  for  that  imponderable 
counterfeit  leaving  us  occasionally  for  long  seasons. 

If  there  is  a  screw  loose  anywhere  the  detective  is  sure 
'  to  ascertain  it.  He  is  not  hasty  even  then.  He  waits  pa- 
tiently until  facts  have  been  accumulated  that  will  bear 
but  one  significance,  however  skillfully  used  by  the  law- 
yers engaged  to  fight  a  dissolving  decree. 

What  show  has  a  man  got  when  he  becomes  the  objec- 
tive point  of  such  systematic  villainy,  for  I  can  call  the 
collusion  of  the  legal  profession  and  the  encouragement  it 
gives  the  applicant  by  no  softer  name?  Evidently  no 
show. 

He  is  not  aware  of  the  approach  of  the  enemy  until  he 
sees  his  buttresses  flying  in  the  air  and  hears  the  crash  of 
his  falling  citadels. 

In  France  just  now  they  are  endeavoring  to  introduce 
divorce,  which,  singularly  enough,  is  not  permitted  in  a 
countrv  whose  entire  dramatic  literature  teems  with  rare 
opportunities  for  its  proper  application. 

And  while  a  little  divorce  would  probably  do  France 
good,  I  think  that  some  restricting  limitation  should  be 
applied  to  its  wholesale  granting  in  this  country.  This 
popping  into  a  railroad  car,  going  out  west,  becoming  a 
citizen,  etc.,  of  another  state,  and  then  eventually  ob- 
taining a  decree  of  separation  between  man  and  wife,  one 
of  the  separated  parties  being  too  frequently  in  absolute 
ignorance  of  what  is  going  on,  is  a  deplorable  instance  of 
the  facility  with  which  things  can  be  accomplished  in  a 
free  country. 

Rather  than  this  system,  and  the  hundreds  of  specialist 
lawyers,  in  New  York  it  breeds,  the  well-defined  and 
thoroughly  understood  system  qf  matrimony  o  la  comm 
ance  of  France  is  much  preferable. 

There,  for  instance,  husband  and  wife,  who  occupy 
separate  apartments,  meet  over  their  breakfast  chocolate 
and  the  following  dialogue  ensues  •. 

"  Bon  jour,  madame." 

"  Bon  jour,  monsieur." 

"  I  saw  you  at  the  opera  last  night." 

"  Indeed— why  did  you  not  come  to  the  box?" 

"  It  was  too  crowded.  Bytheway,  who  is  that  Span- 
ish-looking gentleman  I  sec  you  with  so  much  lately.  " 

"  He?  That  is  Sewor  Ortella  Maria  Jose  Infanta  y  Agu- 
illa  losEspcranza.    lie  is  just  too  sweet  for  anything." 

"So  I  should  Imagine,  He  is  of  the  complexion  of  a 
Chocolate  caramel." 

"  Oh,  yon  are  jealous." 

"  I  ?    On  my  honor— no." 

"  I  also  have  to  ask  you  a  question,  monsieur." 

"  I  listen,  madame," 

"  1  saw  you  dining  in  the  Bois  yesterday.  You  did  not 
have  that  opera  singer  with  you.  Who  is  the  blonde  who 
pleases  your  fancy  now  ?  " 

11  She  is  a  dauseuse  of  the  grand  opera— a  premiere." 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


"Keep  on,  monsieur— you  are  descending  bravely. 
First  it  was  the  director's  wife,  then  the  prima  donna, 
now  a  dancer.  Soon  it  will  be  a  coryphee  at  five  francs 
a  week.*' 

"  Now,  you  are  jealous." 

"  Not  I.  It  is  my  interest  in  you  which  prompts  me  to 
speak.    I  do  not  forget  that  you  are  my  husband." 

"  Au  recoir,  madame." 

"  At  recoir,  monsieur." 

Now,  that  is  the  way  they  talk  in  a  country  that  has 
never  thought  it  needed  the  institution  of  divorce. 

While  conversing  on  this  subject  the  other  day  with  a 
young  lawyer,  who  says  he  wouldn't  touch  a  divorce  case 
of  any  kind,  he  told  me  incidentally  that  the  specialists 
in  the  business  are  not  altogether  content  to  wait  until 
clients  come  to  them  in  the  natural  order  of  events.  If 
trade  is  dull  they  drum  it  up,  precisely  as  a  patent  medi- 
cine man  is  sent  out  by  a  New  York  house  to  introduce 
the  "  Famous  Shake-no-More  "  among  the  ague-stricken 
people  of  the  far  west. 

I  laughed  at  this— it  seemed  so  absurd,  but  he  assured 
me  that  such  was  the  case,  and  proceeded  to  give  me  the 
details. 

"  You  understand,  of  course,"  he  said,  "  that  society  is 
not  happy  in  all  its  honors.  All  the  brown-stone  houses 
have  to  have  new  closets  put  in  every  year  in  order  to  ac- 
commodate the  skeletons.  Still  many  a  woman  and  man, 
if  let  alone,  would  bear  her  or  his  connubial  burdens 


meekly  rather  than  face  the  scandal  and  publicity  of  a 
divorce  trial.  Our  special  divorce  lawyers  know  tins  and 
so  they  invade  society.  They  transfer  the  base  of  opera- 
tions to  the  drawing-rooms.  How  f  By  using  swell  mem- 
bers of  the  fashionable  world  to  first  find  out  where  there 
is  a  canker  in  the  rose,  and  then  to  deftly  set  forth  in  a 
perfect  Mephistophelian  way  how  divorce  is  the  only 
cure.  Nine-tenths  of  this  delicate  diplomatic  business  is 
employed  in  persuading  hesitating  wives.  Husbands 
could  hardly  be  approached  in  their  own  homes  with 
propositions  to  break  them  up.  Take  an  impressionable 
woman,  already  unhappy,  who  has  once  been  thinking 
of  divorce,  and  the  case  is  different.  She  is  clay  for  the 
moulder.  The  serpent  whispers  of  how  nice  it  will  be  to 
bank  her  alimony,  tells  her  lies  about  the  old  man,  in- 
duces her  to  believe  that  the  firm  down  town  will  put  in 
no  bill  if  they  don't  succeed,  and  so  the  affair  is  ar- 
ranged." 

"  And  this  high-toned  guest  of  the  husband  who  abuses 
his  hospitality  to  blast  his  life,  what  can  be  his  motive 
for  enacting  so  desplicable  a  role  t  " 

"  Ten  per  cent,  of  the  fee  paid.  It's  precisely  like  pat- 
ent medicines  or  boots  and  shoes." 

"  More  like  boots  and  shoes." 

"How  so?" 

"Because  the  individual  getting  the  divorce  so  fre- 
quently puts  his  or  her  foot  in  it." 


SOCIETY'S    "  SWELL-MOB." 


It  was  my  fortune  the  other  day  to  be  present  at  a 
police  court  trial  which  was  held  with  closed  doors— in 
fact  it  was  more  of  an  examination  than  a  trial— and  so 
the  particulars  did  not  get  into  the  newspapers. 

I  have  no  intention  either  of  publishing  names  and  resi- 
dences, in  face  of  the  fact  that  mercy  on  one  side,  and 
repentance  on  the  other,  effected  a  sensible  compromise. 
I  merely  take  the  circumstances  as  a  text  for  my  weekly 
homily. 

Briefly  stated,  the  case  was  as  follows:  A  lady  belong- 
ing to  that  vague  and  mysterious  organization  known  as 
our  best  society  had  given  a  party. 

I  cannot  tell  whether  it  was  a  "  German  "  or  a  "  Kettle- 
drum," but  I  was  given  to  understand  that  it  was  a  very 
"tony"  affair. 

The  house  was  brilliantly  illuminated.  An  awning 
stretched  from  the  door  to  the  curb,  and  there  was  virgin 
Turkey  carpet  covering  the  muddy  pavement,  and  so  al- 
lowing Beauty's  satin  slipper  to  reach  the  spacious  par- 
lors unboiled. 

"Niggers"  stood  around  like  pedestals,  directing  you 
to  the  "gents'  cloak  room,"  the  "ladies'  dressing  room," 
etc.,  etc.  Everybody  was  there;  everybody  of  course  in 
the  exclusive  set.  I  was  not.  If  I  remember  correctly  I 
was  playing  pool  that  night  in  a  German  beer  shop,  eat- 
ing vile  sausages  the  while,  and  talking  philosophy  to  the 
bald-headed  proprietor. 

Notwithstanding  my  absence,  which  you  would  natur- 
ally imagine  would  be  a  most  serious  drawback,  the  en- 
tertainment went  off  with  great  eclat. 

The  usual  amount  of  nonsense  was  talked,  and  an  ex- 


traordinary quantity  of  wine,  salad,  ices  and  cake  was 
consumed. 

Carriages  began  to  be  announced  as  they  had  been  sum- 
moned, and  then  it  was  discovered  that  while  the  dance 
was  in  progress  in  the  parlors,  and  the  feeding  was  going 
on  in  the  drawing-room,  some  one  had  been  busy  up- 
stairs ransacking  drawers,  examining  overcoat  pockets, 
and  quietly  purloining  articles  of  value  and  portable  ob- 
jects of  vrrtu  that  happened  to  be  about. 

One  lady  lost  a  diamond  clasp  which  she  had  foolishly 
allowed  to  remain  in  her  wrap. 

The  hostess  missed  bits  of  plate  and  any  quantity  of 
jewelry  that  had  been  on  dressing  tables  and  in  easily 
rifled  drawers. 

Nothing  could  be  done  then,  and  nothing  was  done  for 
some  little  time,  except  to  place  the  mystery  in  the  hands 
of  a  skillful  detective.  He  worked  at  the  case,  and 
finally  ran  his  man  down. 

It  was  one  of  the  "  niggers  "  of  course,  you  say. 

The  thief  was  nothing  of  the  kind. 

Tie  ira-l  one  of  (he  a  ■ 

A  proper,  dapper  young  man  of  most  excellent  family. 
He  holds  a  responsible  position  in  a  large  concern  down 
town,  where  the  prospective  honors  are  supposed  to  be  a 
recompense  for  the  rather  small  salary  he  has  been  re- 
ceiving. 

When  he  was  arrested  he  confessed  everything,  and 
threw  himself  upon  the  mercy  of  those  he  had 
robbed. 

It  came  to  light  then  that  he  had  been  doing  this  sort  of 
thing,  with  the  help  of  an  outsider,  for  some  time,  sup- 


24 


GLIMPSES     OF     GOTHAM. 


plying  himself  •with  spending  money  by  pawning  the 
plunder. 

His  mode  of  operation  -was  to  slip  out  for  an  ostensible 
smoke,  -while  the  festivities  were  at  their  heighth,  and, 
carefully  watching  his  opportunities,  to  ransack  the  vari. 
ons  rooms.  If  confronted  by  any  one,  he  was  looking  for 
the  smoking  room,  and  "  could  you  kindly  tell  me  where 
it  is?    Oh,  it's  down  stairs  !    Thank  you." 

It  is  easily  seen  that  under  the  protection  afforded  by 
being  one  of  the  invited,  this  system  of  thieving  could  be 
carried  on  with  the  utmost  impunity.  Servants  would 
get  the  blame,  or  it  would  be  put  down  to  some  of  the 
men  from  the  caterer's  place. 

The  detection  of  this  young  man  opened  up  the  fact 
that  scores  of  other  houses  had  suffered  in  just  the  same 
way.  There  are  many  to  whose  spoliation  he  will  not 
confess,  stating  most  emphatically  that  he  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  crimes  in  those  particular  instances.  Since 
he  has  no  object  in  lying,  and  has  been  allowed  to  go  scot 
free  out  of  respect  for  his  family,  the  natural  conclusion 
is  that  there  are  thieves,  petty  purloiners,  among  our 
best  people.  Heretofore  society  has  always  furnished 
dishonest  characters  of  the  awfully  swell  order.  A  guar- 
dian does  away  with  his  ward's  fortune.  A  banker  nego- 
tiates his  paper  when  he  knows  he  is  on  the  eve  of  fail- 
ure. The  president  of  an  insurance  company  affixes  his 
oath  to  a  false  balance  sheet.    These  are  all  big  fish. 

It  must  be  a  huge  consolation,  then,  to  the  regular 
low-down  thief  who  has  done  time  for  stealing  a  pair  of 
shoes,  to  know  that  in  the  brown-stone  world  of  magni- 
ficence up-town  there  are  those  of  his  kidney.  They 
wear  good  clothes,  and  are  curled  and  perfumed,  but  they 
belong  to  the  crooked  fraternity  all  the  same,  and  if  jus- 
tice had  its  full  swing,  and  every  dog  got  his  due,  their 
classic  countenances  should  be  among  those  which  make 
up  that  wondrous  album  at  headquarters— the  Rogues' 
Gallery. 

After  the  charge  had  been  withdrawn  and  the  examina- 
tion ended,  I  asked  those  at  the  court  if  this  sort  of  thing 
was  rare,  and  was  told  that  it  was  by  no  means  an  in- 
frequent occurrence.  In  one  or  two  instances  during  the 
year  there  was  no  let  up.  The  cases  were  taken  to  court, 
and  there  are  delicate  hands  breaking  stone  at  Sing  Sing 
now  because  they  were  too  dishonestly  active  under 
such  festive  circumstances  as  I  have  described. 

Further  investigation  has  shown  me  that  no  experienced 
lady  gives  a  party  now  without  having  among  her  black, 
coated  gentleman  guests  a  regular  detective,  whose  duty 
it  is  to  look  as  if  he  were  enjoying  himself  intensely,  and 
to  watch  all  the  others  at  the  same  time. 

You  can't  blame  the  practice,  although  it  does  take  the 
bloom  off  of  hospitality,  and  makes  the  amenities  of 
fashionable  life  a  rather  ghastly  farce.  If  those  you  in- 
vite to  your  house  number  among  them  nun  and  women 
with  the  instincts  of  foot-pads,  it  becomes  the  duty  of  the 
entertainer  to  protect  his  or  her  property,  and  the  prop- 
erty of  the  guests,  at  all  hazards. 

One  of  these  detectives  wras  introduced  to  me,  and  I  had 
quite  a  talk  with  him  upon  the  subject.  It  is  new  work 
for  him,  and  he  is  mightily  pleased  with  it.  His  first 
capture  wa;;  a  woman,  a  handsome,  accomplished  widow, 
who  was  in  .  ited  as  regularly  to  every  swell  affair  as  they 
happened. 

This  is  how  he  caught  her: 

"It  was  about  the  first  of  October,"  he  said,  "that  a 
lady  living  oil  Sixty-first  street  issued  cards  for  a  very 
elegant  reception,  on  the  occasion  of  her  daughter's  mar- 
riage. She  had  been  one  of  the  sufferers  from  the 
fashionable  stealing  we  have  been  talking  about,  and  she 


resolved  this  time  that  she  would  set  a  trap  for  the 
mice. 

"So  she  drove  down  to  our  office  the  day  before— I  be* 
long  to  a  private  firm  of  detectives — and  asked  that  some 
one  be  detailed  at  her  residence  for  that  evening. 

"I  was  selected  by  the  head  of  the  firm,  who  presented 
me  with  regular  cards  of  invitation  that  the  high-toned 
lady  had  brought  with  her.  I  was  not  a  little  embar- 
rassed, you  can  well  imagine,  for  ten  years'  knotking 
about  among  dangerous  characters,  and  being  constantly 
engaged  in  putting  up  jobs  on  the  most  brilliant  memberf 
of  what  we  call  the  '  swell  mob,'  had  rather  unfitted  vni 
for  contact  with  members  of  the  upper  ten  thousand. 

"  And  I  didn't  have  a  dress  suit  1 

"  But  that  was  easily  managed,  thanks  to  a  costumer  on 
the  Bowery,  and  when  I  presented  myself  at  the  brown 
stone  mansion  at  about  half-past  nine,  I  flattered  myself 
I  was  quite  the  correct  thing  in  my  get  up. 

"  Necktie,  kid  gloves,  suit,  boots,  all  proclaimed  me  the 
proper  kind  of  guest.  One  thing  I  am  certain  of;  I  wasn't 
half  as  awkward  as  some  of  the  gawks  about  me,  and  I 
hadn't  been  in  the  parlors  ten  minutes  before  I  felt  per- 
fectly at  my  ease. 

"  The  hostess  introduced  me  as  a  friend  of  her  late  hus- 
band, and  passed  me  over  to  a  heavy  old  swell  who  turned 
out  to  be  in  the  grain  trade.  He  got  me  in  the  corner, 
and  kept  buzzing  me  for  nearly  an  hour  about  the  crop 
failures  in  England,  and  the  immense  exporting  advan- 
tage it  would  be  to  this  country. 

"  All  this  time  while  I  was  listening  to  the  aged  cove, 
and  trying  to  do  my  level  best  in  replying  to  him,  I  didn't 
forget  what  I  had  come  for.  My  eyes  went  up  and  down 
the  room  like  a  patrolman,  studying  each  face  and  watch 
ing  keenly  if  any  of  the  guests  disappeared  from  the 
rooms,  after  formally  entering  them.  There  was  no 
reason  for  anticipating  any  dishonest  operation,  and  my 
position  was  looked  upon,  both  by  myself  and  the  lady  of 
the  house,  as  a  sinecure;  but,  nevertheless,  I  could  not 
drive  it  from  my  mind  that  something  of  a  sensational 
nature  would  turn  up  during  the  course  of  the  evening. 

"And  it  did. 

"  There  was  a  very  stylish,  vivacious,  handsome  widow 
present  to  whom  I  had  been  introduced.  It  struck  me 
then  that  she  talked  too  much;  that  she  surrounded  her- 
self with  a  cloud  of  conversation  which  concealed  from 
every  one  but  myself  a  certain  restlessness,  which  was  a 
sure  indication  of  a  project  being  evolved  in  her 
brain. 

"The  wedding  presents,  which  were  very  handsome, 
were  all  arranged  in  a  sort  of  brilliantly  illuminated 
room  up-stairs,  which,  when  the  survey  of  them  was 
finished,  was  left  in  charge  of  a  faithful  negro  servant 
belonging  to  the  establishment.  Among  the  collection 
was  a  handsome,  rare  old  point  lace  fichu.  This  was 
very  valuable,  and  in  proportion  to  its  size,  really  the 
most  valuable  of  all. 

"  It  was  shortly  after  we  entered  the  refreshment  room 
that  the  widow  complained  of  feeling  ill.  A  chocolate 
ice  had  not  agreed  with  her,  and  the  apartment  Avas  too 
hot.  She  would  go  into  the  parlor  and  rest  awhile.  The 
time  she  chose  was  when  every  guest  was  more  or  less 
occupied  with  the  cheerful  task  of  eating  and  drinking, 
when  all  the  servauts  of  the  house,  excepting  the  on* 
guarding  the  present!,  were  employed  downstairs. 

"I  looked  steadily  at  tho  lady  of  the  house,  and  with 
all  the  significance  that  I  could  command.  This  waste 
prepare  her  for  what  I  was  about  to  say,  which  was: 

:' '  nadn't  I  better  take  Mrs. a  glass  of  wine?' 

*"  Certainly;  it  is  very  kind  of  you,'  she  replied,  '  and 


GLIMPSES    OF    GOTHAM. 


25 


tell  her  I  will  be  there  in  a  moment  to  see  if  she  needs 
anything  else. ' 

"  As  I  had  anticipated,  the  parlor  was  empty,  and  what 
was  more  remarkable,  the  front  door  was  open. 

"I went  up  the  stairs  as  swiftly  and  as  silently  as  I 
could.  When  I  reached  the  door  of  the  room  containing 
the  presents,  I  detected  the  odor  of  chloroform. 

"  The  door  was  partially  closed.  I  pushed  it  open,  and 
it  was  easily  seen  from  whence  the  scent  came.  There 
6at  the  darkey  insensible  in  his  chair,  his  head  thrown 
back,  his  face  covered  with  a  handkerchief.  The  widow 
was  in  the  act  of  pocketing  the  fichu,  the  position  of  the 
two  parties  in  the  room  clearly  showing  how  she  had 
stolen  on  the  negro  unawares.  I  could  have  arrested  her 
then,  but  I  had  a  great  curiosity  to  see  what  her  future 
movements  would  be  like;  so  when  she  made  a  motion  to 
turn,  I  stepped  closely  back  in  the  shadow  of  the  land- 
ing. She  brushed  past  me,  and  floated  down  the  stairs 
like  a  silken  sigh,  I  after  her. 

"All  this  hadn't  taken  more  than  five  minutes.  In- 
stead of  going  straight  into  the  parlor,  she  passed  to  the 
front  door,  which,  as  I  have  said,  was  open.  I  crouched 
down,  and  not  sufficiently  in  range  of  vision  to  see  her 
beckon  her  coachman,  who  was,  singularly  enough,  in 
the  neighborhood  at  so  early  an  hour.  He  came  to  the 
stoop,  and  she  passed  him  the  fichu. 

"Then  she  entered  the  parlor  again,  and  when  I,  in 
about  ten  seconds,  followed  her,  she  was  the  most  beauti- 
ful sick  woman,  lying  among  the  satin  cushions  of  a  sofa, 
that  I  ever  saw. 

"  I  went  to  the  mantel  where  I  had  placed  the  glass  of 

wine,  and  said,  in  my  most  engaging  manner,  '  Mrs. 

sent  me  to  you  with  this,  and  her  compliments.  Try  it; 
it  will  do  you  good.' 

"There  was  no  deceiving  her.  She  saw  at  once  that 
something  terrible  had  happened.  How  came  the  wine 
to  be  in  the  parlor?  I  must  have  been  there  during  her 
absence.  Still  she  did  not  give  herself  up  to  confusion. 
She  shivered  a  little,  and  said,  '  Is  there  not  a  door  open 
somewhere?' 

"  '  Yes,'  I  replied, '  the  front  door.  Since  you  did  not 
close  it  just  now  when  you  spoke  to  your  coachman,  I 
thought  you  desired  it  open.  Fresh  air  is  a  good  thing 
after  chloroform  !' 


"  This  ended  it.  She  looked  up  at  me  and  swooned.  In 
the  meantime  the  hostess  and  the  guests  began  to  arrive. 
They  crowded  about  the  widow,  and  I,  taking  an  advan- 
tage of  an  opportunity  which  presented  itself,  told  the 
lady  of  the  house  what  had  occurred.  Just  as  I  did  so, 
a  servant  discovered  his  chloroformed  companion,  and 
came  shouting  down  the  stairs. 

"All  was  confusion.  Four  or  five  other  ladies  fainted 
in  convenient  corners,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  theory 
was  that  the  establishment  had  been  entered  by  means  of 
a  skeleton  key,  and  that  perhaps  even  now  every  closet 
was  jammed  with  burglars  and  murderers.  I  know  that 
we  had  a  jolly  good  search  all  over  the  house.  The  bride 
was  at  first  terribly  annoyed  at  the  loss,  but  when  her 
mother  told  her  the  circumstances,  dumb  horror  and  sur- 
prise took  possession  of  her. 

"If  I  hadn't  been  there  the  plan  would  have  worked 
beautifully.  The  front  door  was  opened  for  three  reasons 
—to  communicate  with  the  coachman,  to  start  the  theory 
of  a  sneak  thief,  and  to  have  blown  away  whatever  deli- 
cate traces  of  chloroform  may  have  clung  to  the  widow's 
dress. 

"  I  saw  the  pretty  widow  home  that  night  in  her  own 
carriage.  When  we  were  a  block  away  from  the  house,  I 
made  her  get  the  stolen  article  from  the  driver.  He  was 
thunderstruck  at  the  request,  and  was  very  much  worried 
at  my  presence.  I  returned  the  loot,  and  that's  all  there 
is  to  the  story." 

"  Didn't  they  prosecute  her?" 

"No;  what  was  the  use.  They  got  the  fichu— the  fish- 
hook as  I  always  call  it— but  they  let  the  fish  off.  Such 
things  are  not  stealing  among  the  way  up— it's  klepto- 
mania." 

"  But  the  coachman." 

"  He  wasn't  a  real  coachman,  any  more  than  she  was  a 
real  widow.  They  were  man  and  wife,  but  he  could  work 
better  as  coachman." 

"  Then,  this  was  their  regular  business." 

"  Been  at  it  for  years.  I  squeezed  Mr.  Coachman  on  my 
own  account,  and  got  over  one  hundred  pawn  tickets 
from  him,  making  quite  a  neat  '  spec  '  b  y  offering  to  re- 
turn goods  to  parties  if  no  questions  were  asked.  Alto- 
gether my  first  evening  among  the  '  lum-tums '  panned 
out  well." 


BOOK-MAKING    AND    POOL    SELLINGf. 


We  all  remember  "  Doc  "  Underwood,  the  great  Ameri- 
can pool  seller,  and  it  isn't  so  long  ago  that  the  little 
theatre  on  Broadway,where  they  have  been  giving  "  Pina- 
fore "  by  the  Church  Choir  Company,  was  the  regular 
pool-room  of  the  late  John  Morrissey. 

That  was  in  the  time  when  the  law  allowed  or  winked 
at  the  sport,  and  when  the  locality  at  Broadway  and 
Twenty-eight  street  was  marked  by  a  degree  of  betting 
activity  which  you  look  for  in  vain  now. 

There  is  just  as  much  betting  going  on,  however— more, 
in  fact,  but  the  American  pool  system  has  gone  to  the 
wall— it  was  known  as  the  auction  pool— before  the  Eng- 
lish betting  book  idea. 

I  must  confess  at  first  that  I  could  hardly  get  the  Eng- 
lish book,  in  all  its  technical  language,  through  my  per- 
ceptive faculties.    I  am  rejoiced  to  state  that  I  have  suc- 


ceeded at  last  It  was  in  three  easy  lessons,  and  I  paid  a 
price  so  steep,  per  lesson,  as  to  induce  me  to  figuratively 
wonder  when  the  Metropolitan  Soup  Kitchens  are  going 
to  open. 

Each  lesson  was  in  the  form  of  a  race.  I  laid  "  odds," 
but  they  hatched  nothing. 

Still  the  man  who  grumbles  at  knowledge,  however 
dearly  bought,  is  no  philosopher.  Therefore  I  can't  com- 
plain on  that  score. 

You  have  doubtless  heard  about  the  inexperienced  hus- 
band who  came  home  at  the  milkman's  hour  deathly  sick, 
and  who,  upon  being  interrogated  by  his  wife,  owned  up 
to  sixty  beers  during  the  night,  and  laid  the  sickness  to- 
one  Frankfurter  sausage.  They  always  did  disagree 
with  him. 

Of  course  vou  have  heard  of  this  husband.    Maybe  in 


26 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


the  amateur  theatricals  of  this  life  you  have  played  his 
part. 

To  explain  the  digression:  I  am  an  explanatory  sick  hus- 
band. I  ascribe  all  my  ill  luck  to  the  fact  that  an  upright 
municipal  government  forced  me  into  a  speculation  that 

1  didn't  understand. 

If  I  had  bought  the  "  field  "  on  the  good  old  American 
plan,  or  even  invested  in  the  Paris  Mutuels,  I  feel  certain 
that  I  would  be  ready  now  to  prove  my  direct  descent 
from  Croesus. 

By  the  way,  did  you  ever  pause  in  this  work-a-day 
world  to  ponder  a  little  on  those  lucky  dogs  of  antiquity? 
Look  at  Croesus  !  There  wasn't  enough  ink  in  the  world 
or  a  rapid  enough  stylus  to  enable  him  to  overdraw  his 
bank  account. 

There  was  a  man  who  could  have  fried  lampreys  for 
breakfast  every  morning. 

And  Crichton,  who  couldn't  make  a  mistake.  He  was  a 
great  gambler,  too,  and  got  away  with  loads  of  drachma 
and  such  like  on  chariot  races. 

The  chariot  whirls  me  back  to  my  subject,  that  of  the 
English  betting  book  and  its  principles. 

Before  I  take  the  reader  down  town  to  where  all  the 
principal  backers  have  desk  room,  generally  in  saloons 
like  Casey's  and  Thomas's  in  Barclay  street,  I  will  try  to 
explain  the  English  book. 

It  is  constructed  on  severe  mathematical  principles,  is 
nothing  more  than  a  lesson  in  ciphering,  and  will  undoubt- 
edly become  the  fashionable  form  of  betting  at  all  such 
aristocratic  tracks  as  Fordham,  Saratoga  and  Long 
Branch. 

You  will  be  surprised  at  the  authority  to  whom  I  go  for 
facts  bearing  upon  the  English  betting  plan  as  applied  to 
horse  races.  He  is  no  less  a  man  than  Prof.  Richard  A. 
Proctor,  B.  A.,  Camb.,  F.  R.  A.  S.,  who  is  now  delivering 
a  series  of  brilliant  astronomical  lectures  in  this  city. 

I  don't  know  that  the  professor  is  good  on  giving  you 
points,  although  he  could  tell  to  a  dot  when  comets  and 
planets  should  arrive  at  the  judges'  stand,  but  I  think  a 
man  with  an  array  of  such  glittering  titles  would  be  dead 
sure  to  name  the  winner  twice  out  of  three  times. 

Before  quoting  the  description  of  the  booking  idea  it  is 
necessary  to  explain  that "  Camb."  does  not  mean  "  come 
and  make  bets." 

The  professor  says:  "  It  is  in  reality  a  simple  matter  to 
understand  the  betting  on  races  or  contests  of  any  kind, 
yet  it  is  astonishing  how  seldom  those  who  do  not  actually 
bet  upon  races  have  any  inkling  of  the  meaning  of  those 
mysterious  columns  which  indicate  the  opinion  of  the  bet- 
ting world  respecting  the  probable  result  of  approaching 
contests,  equine  or  otherwise. 

"  Let  us  take  a  few  simple  cases  of  '  odds'  to  begin  with 
and,  having  mastered  the  elements  of  our  subject,  pro- 
ceed to  see  how  cases  of  greater  complexity  are  to  be 
dealt  with. 

"  Suppose  the  newspapers  informs  us  that  the  betting  is 

2  to  1  against  a  certain  horse  for  such  and  such  a  race, 
what  inference  are  we  to  deduce?  To  learn  this  let  us 
conceive  a  case  in  which  the  true  odds  against  a  certain 
event  are  2  to  1.  Suppose  there  are  three  balls  in  a  bag, 
one  being  white,  the  others  black.  Then  if  we  draw  a 
ball  at  random  it  is  clear  that  avo  are  twice  as  likel}  to 
draw  a  black  as  to  draw  a  white  bail.    This  I 

■  ised  by  saying  that  the  odds  are  2  to  1  against  draw- 
ing a  white  ball,  or  2  to  1  on— that  Is,  in  favor  of— iraw- 
blackball.    This  being  understood,  it  follows  that 

v.  ben  the  Odds  ar"  said  to  be  2  to  1  against  a  certain  borse 
we  arc  to  infer  that,  in  the  opinion  of  those  who  have 
studied  the  performance  of  the  borse  and  compared  it  with 
that  of  the  other  horses  engaged  in  tho  race,  his  chance 


of  winning  is  equivalent  to  the  chance  of  drawing  one 
particular  ball  out  of  a  bag  of  three  balls. 

"  Observe  how  this  result  is  obtained.  The  odds  are  2  to 
1,  and  the  chance  of  the  horse  is  as  that  of  drawing  one 
ball  out  of  a  bag  of  three— three  being  the  sum  of  the  two 
numbers  2  and  1.  This  is  the  method  followed  in  all  such 
cases.  Thus,  if  the  odds  against  a  horse  are  7  to  1,  we 
infer  that  the  cognoscenti  consider  his  chance  equal  to 
that  of  drawing  one  particular  ball  out  of  a  bag  of  eight. 

"  A  similar  treatment  applies  when  the  odds  are  not 
given  as  so  many  to  one.  Thus,  if  the  odds  against  b. 
horse  are  as  5  to  2,  we  infer  that  the  horse's  chance  is 
equal  to  that  of  drawing  a  white  ball  out  of  a  tag  contain- 
ing five  black  and  two  white  balls,  or  seven  in  all.*' 

Further  on  the  astronomer  throws  some  starlight  on  a 
point  that  would  be  otherwise  murky.  He  says:  "And 
here  a  certain  nicety  in  betting  has  to  be  mentioned.  In 
running  the  eye  down  the  list  of  odds  one  will  often  meet 
such  expressions  as  10  to  1  against  such  a  horse  offered, 
or  10  to  1  wanted.  Now  the  odds  of  10  to  1  taken  may  be 
understood  to  imply  that  the  horse's  chance  is  equivalent 
to  that  of  drawing  a  certain  ball  out  of  a  bag  of  eleven. 
But  if  the  odds  are  offered  and  not  taken  we  cannot  infer 
this.  The  offering  of  the  odds  implies  that  the  horse's 
chance  is  not  better  than  that  above  mentioned,  but  the 
fact  that  they  are  not  taken  implies  that  the  horse's 
chance  is  not  so  good.  If  no  higher  odds  are  offered 
against  the  horse  we  may  infer  that  his  chance  is  very 
little  worse  than  that  mentioned  above.  Similarly  if  the 
odds  of  10  to  1  are  asked  for  we  infer  that  the  horse's 
chance  is  not  worse  than  that  of  drawing  one  ball  out  of 
eleven.  If  the  odds  are  not  obtained  we  infer  that  his 
chance  is  better,  and  if  no  lower  odds  are  asked  for  we 
infer  that  his  chance  is  very  little  better." 

I  give  this  explanation,  because  I  take  it  for  granted 
that  once  in  a  while  my  readers,  who  are  ordinarily  the 
pillars  of  society  and  the  shining  examples  of  respecta- 
bility, may  feel  in  a  risking  mood.  I  do  not  wish  them 
to  be  cajoled  into  laying  any  preposterous  odds  when  the 
business  of  the  moment  is  the  making  of  a  bet.  The  back- 
ers are  the  most  agreeable  men  imaginable.  It  is  very 
difficult  to  get  talking  with  them  on  any  event  in  which 
you  are  interested  without  putting  up  something,  and  it 
is  iust  as  well  to  know  how  to  put  up. 

They  write  your  name  down  on  a  pretty  colored  slip, 
which  they  tear  from  their  little  book,  and  carefully  in- 
sert the  precise  circumstances  under  which  the  bet  is 
made.  With  the  information  Prof.  Proctor  has  given  us 
it  is  now  possible  to  experience  the  sensation  understand- 
ing^-. 

Did  you  ever  notice  what  fearful  odds  are  sometimes 
laid?  "When  Parole  went  over  to  England  for  the  first 
time  Mr.  Lorillard  was  fortunate  enough  to  negotiate  bets 
at  40  to  1.  As  the  day  for  the  race  drew  near  this  was  cut 
down  to  7  to  1,  5  to  1,  and  3  to  1. 

During  the  late  walking  nuisances  I  saw  one  ticket 
which  stated  that  the  holder  had  put  up  ?1  against $1,000, 
the  bookmaker  giving  those  odds  against  one  of  the  dead- 
beat  contestants  getting  a  certain  place.  As  the  man 
COUld  hardly  remain  on  the  tanbark  the  bet  seemed  logi- 
I  cal  enough.  I  bought  a  ticket  at  the  same  odds,  jis  I 
always  would  under  any  circumstances  save  the  non- 
possession  of  a  dollar.  Lightning  has  a  habil  <  E  not  strik- 
ing twice  in  the  same  place,  but  the  man  who  wouldn't 
put  a  dollar  on  a  lightning  strike  coming  loafing  along  on 
its  former  track  when  $1,000  could  be  "collared"  if  it 

did,  is  no  devotee  of  cham  e. 

There  are  up-town  offices,  of  course,  where  betting  goes 
on  constantly .  a  good  deal  oJ  it  being  done  by  wire.  But 
since  horse  races,  yacht  races  and  base  ball  matches  are 


GLIMPSES     OF     GOTHAM. 


27 


generally  managed  in  the  day  time,  it  was  found  neces- 
sary to  open  down-town  branches  in  bars  and  chop- 
houses. 

-1  man  who  comes  out  of  his  office  for  a  drink  and  a 
little  lunch  is  enabled  without  any  trouble  to  get  in  on 
the  races,  say  at  Louisville,  or  the  yacht  contest  up  the 
Sound,  or  anything  anywhere. 

Think  of  bending  over  a  stupid  ledger,  and  seeing  be- 
tween the  lines  the  fascinating  picture  of  your  horse  on 
which  you  got  15  to  1,  coming  in  ahead  of  all  the  others, 
with  his  tail  straight  out  and  the  jockey  almost  riding  be- 
tween his  ears. 

Dost  like  the  picture  ?  But  think  of  the  other  chromos 
on  the  ledger  page— your  horse  in  a  ditch,  and  the  jockey 
coming  over  to  the  grand  stand  on  a  stretcher. 

If  there  were  not  two  sides  to  everything  we  could  have 
lots  of  fun,  couldn't  we? 

This  booking  game  is  one  that  you  can  play  in  two  ways. 
You  can  buy  a  horse  at  the  long  odds  offered,  or  you  can 
open  an  office  yourself  and  start  in  to  back  anything  and 
everything  under  creation.  All  that  you  require  is  a 
character  for  reliability-,  a  tremendous  nerve,  and  a  fac 
ulty  of  so  doing  business  that  there  is  no  chance  of  losing 
anything.  This  can  be  done  nearly  every  time  by  giving 
just  the  proper  kind  of  odds  to  offset  a  misdirected  gene- 
rosity into  which  you  may  have  been  led  at  the  early 
stages  of  the  speculation. 

In  England  it  is  customary  enough  to  open  books  for  the 
Derby  a  year  ahead.  From  that  time  down  to  the  morn- 
ing of  the  race  a  horse  may  fluctuate  like  the  price  of 
gold  in  a  panic.  Some  one  circulates  a  rumor  that  he  has 
gone  amiss  in  one  of  his  legs.  Immediately  the  book- 
makers extend  their  odds  against  him.  When  it  is  dis- 
covered that  it  was  a  mere  rumor  the  figures  change 
again.  In  all  this  multifarious  figuring  it  is  necessary  to 
naintain  a  cool,  clear  head,  and  to  hear  always  the  net 
result  of  the  bets  booked  so  far  ciphered  out  in  the  mind. 

All  backers  do  not  give  the  same  odds,  although  they 


are  foiced  by  the  pressure  of  competition  to  maintain  an 
appearance  of  uniformity. 

Another  peculiarity  about  the  English  system  is  that 
you  don't  get  your  money  back  if  the  horses  do  not  start. 
For  that  very  reason  the  man  who  has  a  chance  six 
months  ahead  of  the  date  of  the  event  to  pick  up  long 
odds  against  ahorse  is  made  a  little  scary  by  the  reflec- 
tion that  perhaps  the  brute  will  be  scratched. 

But  any  of  the  affairs  of  this  life  are  equally  nncertain. 
Look  at  those  pretty  rowers,  Hanlan  and  Courtney  I  Is 
there  the  slightest  moral  certainty  that  they  will  race  on 
the  Potomac? 

Tou  can  go  down  in  Barclay  street  now  and  get  odds 
thai*  there  will  be  no  race  on  Dec.  9th. 

And  from  the  same  man  you  can  get  odds  that  there  will 
be  a  race. 

That  Hanlan  will  beat. 

That  Courtney  will  beat. 

You  can  almost  get  odds  that  both  will  beat. 

Hunt  this  wide  world  over  and  you  will  find  no  more 
accommodating  men  than  the  book-makers.  Knowing 
that  there  is  a  chance  for  every  anticipated  event  hap- 
pening, or  not  happening,  it  is  their  province  to  accom- 
modate all  who  want  to  bet  on  the  "  perhaps  "  of  it. 

Of  course  races,  billiard  matches,  pigeon  shoots  and  the 
like  are  their  legitimate  field  of  operation,  but  they  are 
always  willing  to  go  into  an  outside  snap. 

I  sincerely  believe  that  it  would  have  been  possible  the 
other  day,  when  the  Adventists  were  sitting  around  in 
their  best  bibs  and  tuckers,  waiting  for  the  end  of  the 
world,  to  have  obtained  from  some  of  the  booking  frater- 
nity bets  on  the  occurrence  or  non-occurrence  of  the 
wind-up. 

I  don't  know  though.  If  the  earth's  account  had  been 
closed,  settling  the  transaction  next  day  would  have  been 
a  different  matter. 

For  all  we  know  bets  may  not  be  recognized  in  the  bet- 
ter land. 


RESTAURANTS    GOOD    AUD    BAD. 


A  man  who  can't  satisfy  the  cravings  of  his  intellect  in 
New  York  city,  or  find  plenty  of  pabulum  for  those  baser 
qualities  which  demand  mere  recreation,  is  an  individual 
whom  it  would  be  hard  to  please. 

And  equally  true  is  it  that  the  person  who  cannot  break- 
fast, lunch  and  dine  in  this  goodly  city  the  year  round  to 
his  stomach's  content,  is  the  one  who  will  be  likely  to 
*  kick"  at  the  surroundings  the  morning  after  his  funeral, 
even  if  he  went  straight  through  to  the  better  of  the  two 
stopping  places. 

Of  course  you  must  have  money.  That  is  something 
that  you  can't  take  with  you  when  you  leave  this  vale  of 
tears,  and  I  am  very  glad  that  such  is  ihe  case,  consider- 
ing how  extremely  difficult  it  is  to  freeze  on  to  any  con- 
siderable amount  unless  you  become  a  burglar  or  a  Fall 
River treasurer  in  a  mule-spinning  mill;  you  can't  take  it 
with  you,  I  repeat,  but  it  is  very  convenient  while  you 
tarry  here.  It  buys  bread  and  butter,  porter-house  steak 
with  mushrooms  and  other  gastronomic  combinations 
which  equip  you  for  the  battle  of  life. 

Enjxuwint,  as  Mrs.  General  Oilflory  would  say,  that  was 
a  pretty  tough  story  told  in  the  courts  a  week  or  so  ago 


about  an  old  Dutchman  who  tried  to  "  hangup  "  a  Bowery 
eating  saloon  for  the  price  of  a  pork  chop  and  then  lefta 
linen  duster,  which  he  swore  contained  $16,000,  as 
security. 

That  aged  German  was  very  foolish.  You  never  hean  jf 
me  doing  anything  like  that.  I  suppose  I  have  worn  linen 
dusters  off  and  on,  but  principally  "on,"  ever  since  I  was 
a  boy,  and  I  never  carried  $16,000  around  in  the  pockets 
of  one  of  them  in  all  that  time.  It's  too  "  shiftless  like," 
as  Aunt  Ophelia  in  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  would  say. 

If  I  have  not  already  foreshadowed  my  intention  in  this 
paper,  I  announce  it  now.  I  purpose  to  write  of  the 
restaurants  of  New  York  and  the  opportunities  presented 
generally  for  browsing. 

The  New  York  restaurants,  to  begin  with,  are  the  best 
in  the  world.  This  can  be  said  safely,  without  the  slight- 
est fear  of  contradiction.  It  is  the  universal  testimonial 
of  all  foreigners  who  look  kindly  upon  Epicurus  and  his 
teachings. 

They  are  of  the  most  infinite  variety.  Every  taste  can 
be  satisfied.  The  population  of  the  city  is  no  more  cos- 
mopolite than  are  its  kitchens.    I  can  get  frog's  legs  or 


•2s 


GLIMPSES    OF    GOTHAM. 


stewed  rat  as  quickly  as  I  can  have  a  chop  served.  You 
need  only  to  know  where  to  go  if  your  taste  is  fantastic. 

The  bills  of  fare  suit  every  purse,  I  do  not  care  how 
slender  it  may  be.  You  can  knock  a  hundred  dollar  bill 
into  a  little  loose  silver  for  the  waiter  at  Delmonico's,  or 
you  can  go  in  South  Fifth  avenue  or  Wooster  street  and 
have  a  dinner  in  courses  for  nine  cents. 

That's  luxury.  You  can  do  even  better,  or  worse,  ac- 
cording to  the  standpoint  from  which  you  look  at  it. 
There  are  places  on  the  Bowery  and  down  about  the 
markets  where  three  and  five  cents  will  at  least  appease 
hunger.  And  after  all  that  is  the  fundamental  principle 
of  all  eating.  When  it  embraces  anything  else  the  collat- 
eral idea  is  generally  based  on  style. 

It  is  quite  natural  that  we  should  all  prefer  to  dine  at 
Delmonico's  or  the  Cafe  Brunswick  to  munching  hard 
rolls  and  drinking  chicory  coffee  in  a  shanty  saloon,  but 
each  experience  is  good  in  its  place,  and  no  man's  life  is 
complete  that  is  not  a  gamut  sweeping  the  space  between 
the  two  extremes.  If  I  had  been  born  with  a  silver  spoon 
in  my  mouth— and  of  course  I  was  not,  any  more  than  I 
was  born  with  a  $10  gold  piece  in  my  vest  pocket  and  had 
been  fed  on  bon-bons  and  syllabub  all  my  life— I  would  not 
have  possessed  that  varied  experience  which  now  makes 
my  quail  and  glass  of  wine  seem  so  delicious  after  the 
opera. 

On  the  contrary,  I  have  eaten  as  extensively  as  I  have 
traveled,  and  have  frequently  been  the  unhappy  owner  of 
an  appetite,  to  possess  which  a  dyspeptic  millionaire 
would  give  a  thousand  dollars.  It  made  me  unhappy  be- 
cause it  attained  its  full  strength  and  most  generous  pro- 
portions when  there  was  nothing  to  eat.  But  that  was 
not  in  this  country,  and  was  most  certainly  not  in  New 
York. 

In  treating  your  girl  to  a  lunch  after  the  theatre,  where 
to  go  to  depends  a  great  deal  upon  the  girl.  Sometimes 
you  are  dreadfully  fooled,  as  I  was  once.  This,  however, 
was  in  broad  day  light,  and  I  had  met  the  young  lady  in 
Union  Square  just  as  I  was  going  to  lunch.  She  was  a 
literary  young  woman  and  wrote  a  great  deal  I  know 
about  moonbeams,  and  hearts  that  pine  away,  and  all  the 
rest  of  that  rot.  What  made  my  invitation  of  her,  to  have 
a  bite  of  something,  necessary,  was  because  I  was  her 
agent  in  the  matter  of  these  poems.  That  is,  I  was  the 
young  man  who  used  to  get  kicked  down  the  stairs  of 
newspaper  offices,  and  fired  out  of  windows  for  daring  to 
offer  her  manuscript  and  expect  money  for  it. 

She  said  at  first  that  she  was  not  hungry,  that  she  had 
had  a  late  breakfast,  and  as  she  spoke  this  way  my  heart 
carolled  like  a  bird,  for  I  only  had  $2,  and  it  was  a  little 
uncertain  in  those  days  when  another  bill  would  hap- 
pen along. 

But  she  finally  went  in  to  look  on— only  to  look  on,  mind 
yon.  Tlien  .she  glanced  carelessly  over  the  bill  of  fare, 
and  said  with  a  theatrical  air  of  astonishment,  as  if  she 
bad  been  hunting  all  over  Now  York  for  the  article,  "Why, 
they've  got  partridge  !  " 

I  remember  that  the  bit  of  turkey  sandwich  stuck  in  my 
throat,  and  nearly  did  the  sheriff's  act  lor  me  a-  I  tried 
to  reply  in  a  bantering  way,  "Have  they,  indeed  ?  " 

"Id.i  adore  partridge,"  she  continued;  "I  think  I'll  try 
a  half  a  one." 

"  What's  tho  use  of  doing  things  by  hah  i  s,"  r  answered, 
wrecklessly,  "take  a  complete  low  I,  have  a  covey." 

Bntshe  took  the  half— $1,25.  If  she  had  taken  the  en- 
tire chicken  I  might  have  been  in  state  prison  now,  for  1 
r<-(  ollect  that  in  my  mental  agony  tin-  murder  of  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  saloon,  ».nd  the  setting  Are  to  the  place, 
■were  but  parts  of  my  uluu  of  escape. 


As  a  rule  the  sentimental  young  woman  who  writes 
about  moonbeams  is  equal  to  four  or  five  flsh-ba'.ls  as  a 
side-breakfast  dish  on  Fridays. 

The  kind  of  lady  companion  when  you  go  out  to  spend 
the  evening  and  have  to  run  the  lunch  gauntlet  in  getting 
home,  should  be  like  a  married  friend  of  mine.  Her  hus- 
band was  an  invalid,  rarely  went  out  at  night,  but  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  his  wife,  who  was  very  fond  of 
music  and  the  drama,  had  an  opportunity  to  attend  a 
performance. 

The  escorting  duty  fell  upon  a  rich  young  man  in  splen- 
did business  down  town,  and  the  subscriber,  who  at  that 
time  was  up  to  his  ears,  via  five  flights  of  stairs,  in  attic 
philosophy. 

I  knew  that  she  had  been  to  Delmonico's  with  the  swell, 
because  I  had  heard  it  incidentally  mentioned,  and  when 
my  turn  came  to  do  the  gallant,  I  rose  to  the  financial 
occasion  onl;r  after  the  most  strenuous  exertion.  But  I 
was  fixed,  and  to  all  intents  and  purposes  quite  as  satis- 
factorily so  as  if  I  had  been  A.  T.  Stewart. 

I  was  not  allowed,  however,  to  assume  the  gilt-edged 
style  I  had  been  anticipating.  She  said  when  I  suggested 
Delmonico's : 

"No,  I'm  tired  of  Delmonico's  and  I  don't  like  cham- 
pagne, at  least  not  all  the  time.  Now  I  am  very  fond  of 
beer.    Let's  have  beer  and  oysters;  it's  much  jollier." 

All  this,  mind  you,  was  done  with  infinite  grace  and 
tact.  But  these  ladies  are  scarce.  I  have  told  the  an- 
ecdote a  dozen  times  to  the  fair  ones  I  have  had  out  for 
an  evening,  but  the  story  never  seemed  to  have  the 
slightest  effect. 

The  regular  French  dinners  on  the  UMe  d'hote  style  are 
very  extensively  patronized  in  New  York,  but  I  never  go 
to  one  unless  it  is  to  secure  a  special  dish  like  maccaroni. 
They  take  up  too  much  time.  I  can  understand  a  party, 
wishing  to  remain  together,  putting  in  hour  after  hour  at 
one  of  these  restaurants,  but  just  for  the  mere  sake  of  eat- 
ing it  seems  a  terrible  waste  of  Tcmpus.  The  hotels  are 
adopting  the  plan  of  giving  a  dollar  dinner  to  transients. 
This  is  done  as  opposition  to  the  Frenchmen.  You  may 
get  a  better  dinner  at  the  hotels,  but  you  miss  the  boule- 
vard atmosphere  of  the  other  places.  I  got  so  thoroughly 
Parisian  by  going  constantly  to  a  French  restaurant  in 
Thirteenth  street,  that  I  kept  shrugging  my  shoulders  for 
two  months,  aud  only  stopped  it  then  by  beiug  treated  for 
a  nervous  affection. 

You  certainly  have  your  choice  among  these  French 
dining  places.  You  can  pay  $1.50 and  you  can  go  to  South 
Fifth  avenue  and  dine  for  twenty  cents,  or  even  for  nine, 
as  I  said  above.  There  won't  be  much  difference  found 
in  the  wine,  and,  so  far  as  company  is  concerned,  it  is 
much  more  communistic  and  entertaining  in  the  cheaper 
cafes. 

A  great  many  beer  saloons  set  regular  breakfasts,  din- 
ners and  suppers.  I  am  not  a  great  admirer  of  Teutonic 
cookery,  hut  must  admit  that  Frankfurter  sausage,  hrown 
bread  and  beer  do  not  go  bad  on  a  winter's  evening.    I 

nev<  r  knew  what  a  Frankfurter  was  made  of,  and  1  have 
no  desire  to  bo  informed.  I  know  that  with  horse-radish 
and  mustard  it  is  very  appetizing. 

The  English  chop-house  is  more  a  specialty  in  Brooklyn 
than  here.  There  is  a  decided  charm  about  the  quaint, 
'  snuggery  *'  kind  Of  a  bar,  the  glistening  mugs  and  tho 
shining  earthenware  "tobies"  which  the  waiter  brings 
you  full  of  Coaming  ale,  while  your  Welsh  rarebit  order, 
steak  or  chops,  as  the  case  may  be,  is  being  attended  to. 
When  the  weather  gets  real  cold  these  chop-houses  be- 
come real  hails  ol  bewitchery,  owing  to  the  insidious 
effect  of  w  arm  drinks.    The  hot  water  is  brought  on  in  a 


GLIMPSES    OF    GOTHAM. 


20 


little  jug,  the  sugar  and  lemon  in  a  saucer  and  the  Scotch 
whiskey  in  a  bottle  by  itself.  I  am  taking  it  for  granted 
that  justice  has  been  done  to  a  good  meal  and  the  hot  grog 
is  to  build  you  up  for  the  ferry  side.  There's  the  great 
trouble.  To  be  dead  sure  that  you  will  be  braced  up  for 
tbe  ferry  you  have  some  more,  and 

Well,  there  is  hardly  any  use  in  being  too  particular. 
I  know  one  young  man  who  lives  at  159th  street  who  left 
the  "Abbey"  in  Brooklyn  after  getting  primed  against 
the  ferry,  and  they  found  him  next  morning  in  a  Coney 
Island  bath-house. 

Outside  of  these  English  places  Brooklyn  is  singularly 
deficient  in  good  restaurants,  is  worse  even  than  Phila- 
delphia, where  they  have  the  best  markets  and  private 
tables  in  the  world,  but  the  meanest  restaurants  to  be 
found  anywhere.    Their  hotel  tables  are  also  poor. 

Way  down  town  the  dairies,  creameries,  "  dime  "  res- 
taurants and  pie  and  milk  places  abound.  Between  12 
and  3  o'clock  these  establishments  do  a  rushing  trade. 
They  employ  pretty  girls— fresh,  neat,  trimly-built  young 
persons— who  represent  that  decent  middle  class  of  soci- 
ety which  furnishes  the  bar-maids  in  England.  Young 
clerks  who  go  fluttering  about  these  bright-eyed  creatures 
with  light-waisted  pocketbooks  or  anything  but  the  most 
honorable  intentions  are  apt  to  get  seriously  fooled.  I 
knew  a  colony  of  girls,  a  regular  flock  of  turtle  doves, 
who  had  taken  three  or  four  rooms  in  a  tenement  in  Van- 
dewater  street 

The  young  man  who  took  me  around  there  had  made  a 
tremendous  error  in  his  calculations— a  fact  of  which  I 
apprised  him  before  he  had  been  in  the  place  ten  min- 
utes. We  all  drank  beer  and  sang  songs,  and  I  must  con- 
fess that  these  pie  and  pudding  wrestlers  were  very  agree- 


able company,  just  a  trifle  more  free  than  the  young  lady 
in  her  ma's  parlor,  but  with  an  air  of  business  about 
them  and  a  constant  tendency  to  talk  about  matrimony, 
which  showed  which  way  the  wind  was  blowing. 

My  friend  took  one  of  them  to  the  theatre,  and  nothing 
but  the  Cafe  Brunswick  would  suit  her.  She  had  all  her 
canvas  spread  and  looked  as  if  she  boarded  there  regu- 
larly. But  she  was  up  all  the  same  the  next  morning  at  5 
o'clock,  slipping  into  her  calico  dress  and  getting  ready 
for  the  day's  campaign  in  Nassau  street. 

All  in  good  time  my  friend  was  sued  for  breach  of 
promise,  and  was  fed  for  a  while  from  the  cuisine  of  Lud- 
low street  j  ail.  He  weakened  there  and  got  out  by  marry- 
ing her.  This  was  over  a  year  ago,  and  he  told  me 
no  later  than  yesterday  to  congratulate  him.  He  is  a 
father. 

Tonjours  the  milk  business  ! 

The  American  slap-dash  restaurant,  with  its  fifteen  cent 
meats,  is  too  well  known  to  need  description.  I  never  eat 
in  one  if  I  can  possibly  avoid  it.  It  is  too  much  like  a 
game  of  base-ball.  Neither  can  I  stand  up  at  a  bar  and 
grab  at  things  over  a  man's  head,  as  they  do  sometimes 
in  the  Astor  House  rotunda.  I  would  rather  go  over  to 
Park  row  and  try  the  coffee  and  cake  saloons,  institutions 
that  are  peculiar  to  New  York.  They  make  an  oyster  pie 
there  that  I  am  sure  is  an  infringement  on  the  India  rub* 
ber  patent. 

But  there  goes  my  dinner  bell.  I  must  stop.  We  have 
I  turkey  to-night,  and  I  notice  that  the  first  served  get  a 
better  chance  to  study  the  succulent  peculiarities  of  the 
bird  than  those  who  come  in  to  find  the  noble  insect  look- 
ing like  a  Jersey  barn  with  the  stuffing  knocked  out  of  it. 


A    CHRISTMAS    DRAMA, 


These  are  pre-eminently  the  shopping  days,  and  no 
study  of  New  York  life  would  be  complete  that  did  not 
embrace  a  consideration  of  Gotham's  comely  matrons 
and  lovely  daughters  when  they  are  on  what  might  be 
called  the  extravagant  rampage. 

Between  the  Thanksgiving  turkey  and  the  Christmas 
bird  there  is  a  perceptible  holiday  flavor  in  the  atmos- 
phere. Store  windows  bloom  like  flower  gardens.  Paris 
pours  in  her  novelties.  The  toy  and  confectionery  busi- 
nesses assume  gigantic  proportions,  so  much  so  that  bon- 
bons and  painted  balloons  are  gradually  looked  upon  as 
necessities  by  the  unfortunate  citizen  who  has  nephews 
and  nieces  to  remember. 

A  stroll  along  upper  Broadway  just  now  shows  you  that 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  lack  of  money,  and  that  if  there 
ever  was  a  time  when  people  were 
"Hard  up,  hard  up 
For  want  of  food  and  Are, 
A-tying  of  their  shoes  up 
With  little  bits  of  wire," 
that  time  has  long  since  been  under  the  daisies.    I  do  not 
doubt  that  if  we  went  over  on  the  East  side  and  nosed 
about  among  the  cellars  and  damp,  reeking  rooms  of  rot- 
ting rookeries  we  might  discover  human  beings  who  need 
such  commonplace  holiday  goods  as  bread  and  meat. 

I  have  no  doubt,  either,  that  a  good  square  meal  to  them 


would  possess  all  the  novelty  and  unfrequency  of  a 
holiday. 

But  there  is  no  necessity  to  wander  amid  the  odors  of 
the  far  East  or  West.  It  is  the  gladsome  money-spending 
time  of  the  year,  and  if  we  haven't  any  money  of  our  own 
to  sling  about,  nor  any  purple-embroidered  carriage  in 
which  the  clerks  can  toss  our  packages,  we  can  at  least 
mingle  with  the  throng,  flatten  our  noses  against  the  five 
hundred  dollars'  worth  of  plate  glass  in  the  windows,  and 
so  catch  something  of  the  opulent  spirit  of  the  hour. 

The  animation  of  the  scene  is  recompense  enough  any. 
how.  I  often  enjoy  ten  minutes  on  one  of  Stewart's 
corners  watching  the  swell  girls  getting  in  and  out  of 
their  equipages,  and  noticing  the  starched  flunkeyism  of 
the  well-fed  and  warmly-clad  coachmen.  The  private 
police  at  Stewart's  are  also  funny  creatures  to  me.  They 
are  so  awkward,  so  solemn  and  so  pretentious  in  their 
ungainly  uniforms  that  they  suggest  the  "  beef  -eaters"  at 
the  Tower  of  London.  I  imagine  they  are  of  the  same 
utility.  I  have  never  seen  them  do  anything  else  than 
call  carriages,  open  and  shut  carriage  doors  and  raise  and 
lower  umbrellas.  These  services  performed,  each  one 
picks  out  the  particular  flagstone  to  which  he  has  become 
attached  and  goes  on  with  his  imitation  of  a  lamp-post. 

Broadway  shopping  is  the  most  aristocratic,  but  in 
order  to  enjoy  the  bustle  and  activity  you  must  go  over  on 


30 


GLIMPSES     OF     GOTHAM. 


the  avenues,  Sixth  and  Eighth.  Since  1873  these  thor- 
oughfares, taking  advantage  of  the  genuine  hard  times 
and  the  difference  in  the  rental  of  stores  as  compared 
with  those  on  Broadway,  have  developed  an  enormous 
business  in  all  articles  appertaining  to  women's  wear.  It 
is  not  de  rigeur  for  the  point  lace  people  to  shop  on  a  West 
side  avenue,  any  more  than  it  would  he  the  correct  thing 
for  them  to  get  their  bonnets  in  Division  street ;  but  when 
you  can  procure  the  material  for  a  dress  in  a  Sixth  avenue 
shop  ten  dollars  cheaper  than  the  same  stuff  would  cost 
on  Broadway— and  there  is  nothing  harder  to  do  than  lie 
about  the  purchase— it  is  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  to  find  ladies  from  St.  James  patronizing  store- 
keepers who  began  business  in  St.  Giles. 

The  whole  transaction  is  no  more  than  a  iittle  bit  of 
innocent  deception.  When  I  used  to  hire  a  coupe  by  the 
month— I  think  it  was  used  at  night  to  meet  trains  at 
Desbrosses  street— I  never  told  people  that  it  wasn't  my 
own  trap,  and  no  doubt  had  I  been  cross-questioned  on  the 
subject  I  would  have  imperiled  any  chances  I  might  have 
then  possessed  for  becoming  a  first-class  harp  player  in 
the  next  life  by  coolly  asserting  that  I  owned  the  entire 
"caboodle." 

I  often  think  that  it  was  only  the  attenuated  and  for- 
lorn condition  of  the  horse  which  saved  me  from  this  sin. 
Richard  III.  would  have  wanted  to  fall  from  the  offer  of 
his  kingdom  to  two  dollars  and  a  half  if  that  steed  had 
been  proffered  him  in  the  emergency  of  Bosworth  field. 

The  shopping  that  is  being  done  now  is  of  the  genuine 
order.  Clerks  and  salesmen  are  not  exercised  in  vain. 
Palpable  goods  are  purchased  and  genuine  bills  made  out 
for  desperate  men  to  swear  over  when  they  are  presented. 
But  in  how  many  instances  the  shopping  business  of  the 
average  New  York  woman  is  a  fraud,  a  device  to  kill  time 
and  salesmen  at  the  smallest  degree  of  expense.  I  once 
knew  a  young  lady  who  came  very  near  j  oining  me  matri- 
monially in  starting  a  poor  but  highly  intellectual  branch 
of  the  Prowler  family.  It  is  not  necessary  to  particular- 
ize any  more  than  to  state  that  the  golden  bowl  is  broken 
and  the  dream  has  faded.  She  was  disposed  of  at  a  panic 
price  to  a  genuine  Italian  count,  who  now  keeps  a  barber 
shop  in  Chicago. 

She  was  the  "boss"  shopper.  I  have  heard  her  an- 
nounce at  the  mutual  breakfast  table  of  the  Lexington 
avenue  boarding  house,  where  first  I  saw  her,  that  she 
had  a  certain  shade  of  ribbon  to  match,  she  wanted  just  a 
quarter  of  a  yard,  and  that  it  was  her  intention  to  devote 
the  forenoon  to  its  purchase.  For  fear  that  she  might 
not  be  able  to  get  through  the  work  unaided,  she  would 
press  two  other  Jadies  into  the  service.  At  10  o'clock 
they  would  sally  forth  in  war  paint  and  feathers  and 
begin  the  campaign.  They  always  got  the  ribbon  (price, 
eight  cents),  and  at  dinner,  during  their  conversation,  we 
would  learn  incidentally  that  they  had  been  in  about 
forty  stores  and  had  walked  at  leastflfteen  miles.  Women 
posft  M  this  concentrating  power  in  a  remarkable  degree. 
For  the  moment  the  acquisition  of  that  bit  of  ribbon  be- 
as  important  a  question  as  the  Eastern  one  is  just 
now  to  England  and  Russia. 

Three-fourths  of  the  ladies  you  meet  in  large  dry  goods 
establishments  at  seasons  of  the  year  other  than  this  buy 
nothing  at  ah  unless  their  fancy  is  attracted  by  accident 
Lblein  marly  every  store  catering  for  them 
on  a  large  scale,  inasmuch  as  tin  .  -II  .  v  i  \  mortal  thing 
under  the  sun  with  the  exception  of  mowing  machines 
and  locomotives. 

1   have  (.'one  along  with  some  cousins  of  mine,  giddy 
s-'irls   from    Hackensack— gone   along   in    the   capacity  of 

it  porter  (and  at  preeenl  [amaolighl  a  porter  that 
there  is  no  mistaking  me  for  "stout")  and  been  thor- 


oughly astonished  to  notice  the  few  things  you  can't  buy 
in  a  pins  and  needle  store.  Candies,  boots,  books,  pen- 
knives, pickles,  patent  medicines  and  a  wilderness  of 
goods  you  would  never  expect  to  meet  under  the  cir- 
cumstances stare  you  in  the  face  at  ridiculously  low 
prices. 

They  have  lunch  rooms,  where  you  can  refresh,  and  I 
seriously  contemplate  making  an  offer  for  the  privilege 
of  running  drinking  bars  as  an  outside  attraction.  On  re  • 
flection  I  thiuk  the  bars  would  be  an  "  inside ' '  attraction. 

When  it  is  possible  for  the  American  husband  to  get 
drunk  under  the  roof  of  a  store  where  his  wife  and 
daughters  are  conspiring  against  his  financial  well  being 
and  peace  of  mind,  then  we  have,  indeed,  realized  the 
ideal  conception  of  a  free  country,  and  the  beneficent 
effects  of  our  democratic  form  of  government  can  no 
further  go. 

There  is  no  place  so  admirable  for  a  rendezvous  as  the 
New  York  stores  I  have  been  describing.  This  is  particu- 
larly so  now  when  the  "  boom  "  rages,  and  an  apparently 
reckless  use  of  money  characterizes  the  hour.  What  is 
the  logical  consequence  ? 

Come  with  me  to  any  one  of  these  bazars.  You  notice 
four,  five  or  a  dozen  young  men  lounging  along  the  side- 
walk, admiring  the  decorations  of  the  windows,  and  act- 
ing with  elegant  listlessness.  We  lose  sight  of  them  for  a 
little  while,  and  take  a  tour  through  the  store  or  down  the 
block.  Handsome  woman  that,  isn't  she?  By  Jove  what 
style  1  Look  at  those  two  pretty  girls.  Been  to  school  or 
their  music  teacher's.  Going  home  now  to  practice  or 
read  a  novel  by  Miss  Austen.  Are  they  ?  Not  much.  In 
ten  minutes  we  meet  the  handsome  women  again  coming 
out  of  her  favorite  bazar,  and  with  her  is  one  of  our  ele- 
gant loungers.  Two  of  the  others,  later  on,  go  by  with 
our  school  girls.  These  are  cases  we  see.  How  many  are 
there  of  whose  existence  we  know  nothing,  know  as  little 
in  fact  as  the  down-town  husband,  or  hard-working 
fathers. 

It  is  absolutely  impossible  to  prevent  these  meetings, 
and  the  system  of  immorality  which  springs  from  them. 
At  the  best  we  can  but  deplore,  as  long  as  New  York  city 
possesses  so  many  handsome,  well-dressed,  idle  scoun- 
drels who  seem  to  have  so  little  difficulty  in  making  these 
shopping  acquaintances,  so  long  will  a  practice  exist 
which  is  crowned  at  the  start  by  the  harmless  flowers  of 
flirtation,  but  which,  only  too  surely,  bears  the  dead-sea 
fruit  of  remorse. 

Let  us  imagine  a  little  drama,  a  Christmas  play,  which 
will  illustrate  this  : 

Scene— A  Sixth  avenue  store. 

Time— The  present— also  3  r.  m. 

Dramatis  Pe,so„<r— Handsome  married  woman.  Hand- 
some man.  (Doesn't  matter  about  his  marriage,  i.  <•.,  not 
in  this  play.) 

Sin-:—"  But  really  you  ought  not  to  come  here  so  often 
aeeidt  ntaUy.    You  know  /  have  to  come  here  to  shop." 

He—"  Certainly  I  do;  that's  why  I  come." 

She—"  But  people  will  notice." 

He— "Never  fear  that;  they  are  too  busy  with  them- 
selves, and  besides,  we  are  so  eminently  proper." 

She—"  Why,  of  course  we  are— what  should  wo  bo?" 

Hk— "  Friends  instead  of  mero  acquaintances." 

Sin.— "  Bnt  consider  how  we  met— how  impudent  and 
horrid  you  were  to  follow  mo  from  here  and  offer  to  carry 
my  bundles." 

11k— "  Never  mind  that  now.  It's  ancient  history.  But 
let  UB  go  and  have  some  lunch.  You  know  you  didn't 
coiiie  iii  here  to  buy  anything." 

Sin— "  I  came  in  to  look  at  that  cloak,  the  $150  one.  I 
dream  of  it  at  night." 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


31 


He—"  What's  the  trouble.    Price  too  steep  ?  " 

She—"  It  would  svamp  my  husband's  business  if  1 
bought  that." 

He — "  Why  not  let  me  present  it  to  yon  ? " 

She—"  Heavens !  you  take  my  breath  away.  And  why 
could  you?"  • 

He—"  Simply  because  it  pleases  me.  Here,  miss.  (He 
beckons  to  saleslady.)  You  have  this  lady's  address.  On 
Dec.  24th  send  that  cloak  to  it.'  Give  me  a  receipt  for  the 
money     (Throws  down  filthy  lucre)." 

She—"  But  my  husband— he  will  wonder  ! " 

He—"  No,  he  won't.  If  he  does,  tell  him  it's  really  in- 
explicable how  they  get  up  these  imitations.  Then  say 
now  here's  a  cloak  I  only  gave  $38  for.  It' s  every  bit  as  good 
as  one  I  saw  marked  $150.  Then  he'll  think  what  a  provi- 
dent, prudent  wife  he  has.  But  come ;  I  have  the  receipt, 
let's  take  the  little  lunch." 

She— (Soito  too ).    "  But  am  I  prudent? " 

This  is  only  the  first  act. 

There  are  thousands  of  such  histrionic  stories  being  told 
in  New  York  to-day.    Next  to  virtue  as  a  basis  of  conduct 


among  the  daughters  of  Eve  comes  a  love  for  fine  dress- 
ing. It  is  not  an  acquired  sin;  it  is  a  natural  desire. 
When  Poverty  is  a  third  condition  then  Virtue  and  Fine 
Dress  are  always  in  battle  array  against  each  other. 

It  is  so  at  least  in  the  big  cities;  it  is  especially  so  in 
New  York.  We  are  not  able  to  be  spectators  in  every  in- 
stance, but  the  jewel  scene  in  "  Faust"  is  in  constant  re- 
hearsal. Never  does  Mephisto  wield  so  much  power  over 
the  impecunious  as  in  the  holiday  shopping  time. 

Conservative,  law-abiding  citizen  as  I  am,  I  have  fre- 
quently concocted  the  most  gory  plots  in  order  to  be  able 
to  obtain  some  gem  to  hang  at  beauty's  ear. 

Imagine  then  the  critical  position  of  beauty  herself  who- 
goes  shopping  with  an  empty  purse,  and  allows  Mephis- 
topholes  to  purr  in  that  pink  ear  as  he  jingles  his  gold  and 
she  gazes  upon  the  forbidden  fruit,  whether  it  be  a  dia- 
mond necklace  or  a  silk  circular. 

I  think  I  will  credit  a  modest  sum  to  the  account  in  my 
ledger  headed  up,  "  Sisters,  cousins,  aunts,"  and  do  my 
shopping  in  the  Bowery. 


NEW    YORK'S    CHRISTMAS    DINHER. 


Christmas  is  not  the  holiday  in  New  York  to  the  extent 
that  "  New  Year's"  is,  but  it  is  thoroughly  observed  all 
the  same  in  regard  to  its  gastronomic  and  other  pleasura- 
ble details.  I  do  not  think  that  the  city  enthuses  as  much 
in  the  religious  direction  as  it  should,  and  I  am  afraid  the 
average  young  man— say  the  hard-worked  clerk,  for  in- 
stance—looks  upon  it  as  a  secular  holiday,  during  which 
he  is  expected  to  eat  a  great  deal  of  turkey,  play  consid- 
erable billiards  and  punish  untold  hot  drinks. 

In  the  poetic  past  I  used  to  get  up  by  candle-light  for  the 
sake  of  attending  the  services  on  Christmas  morning  at 
this  or  the  other  Catholic  or  High  Episcopalian  church, 
where  a  fine  display  and  good  music  might  be  confidently 
expected.  But  age  is  beginning  to  tell  upon  Paul  Prowler, 
and  that  significant  fact,  considered  along  with  the  equal- 
ly significant  circumstance  of  devoting  Christmas  Eve  to 
purposes  of  mild  wassail,  has  militated  against  the  early 
rising  habit. 

It  i3  generally  the  savory  sauce  of  the  dinner  which 
greets  me  when  I  open  my  eyes  to  find  that  I  have  a  terri- 
ble "  head"  on  me,  and  to  wonderif  the  other  fellows  feel 
just  as  bad. 

On  such  occasions  you  can  exorcise  the  remorse  of 
Christmas  morning  by  saying,  "  Never  mind;  one  week 
more,  and  then  I'll  swear  off." 

I  know  that  such  is  always  the  procedure  in  my  case. 

This  church  and  social  holiday  comes  to  all  of  us  this 

year  in  vastly  different  guises.  There  were  lots  of  fellows 

who  couldn't  conscientiously  give   thanks  on  Thanks- 

.'  day,  and  beyond  a  doubt  the  city  holds  at  thi3 

Ing  an  immense  horde  of  miserable  being3  who  can 

take  no  comfort  in  the  celebration  of  December  25th.  The 

gentlemen  in  the  Tombs  are  probably  of  this  ilk,  although 

are  by  no  means  the  worst  off.    They  get  a  good 

•i.ias  dinner  and  plenty  of  it.    Warden  Finn  is  an 

officer  who  appreciates  the  merits  of  a  substantial  meal, 

and,  Life  Mr-  Quinn,  has  the  sentimental 

nature  which  urges  him  to  look  afier  the  stomachs  as  well 

;i.s  the  moral  apparatus  of  his  charges. 


It  depends,  however,  in  the  case  of  a  Tombs  prisoner,  a 
good  deal  upon  what  he  is  there  for  in  calculating  the 
pleasure  and  dyspepsia  he  may  be  able  to  extract  from  a 
Christmas  dinner.  To  the  utterly  callous  wretch  it 
doesn't  matter.  He  eats  like  a  hog,  and  only  regrets  the 
absence  of  the  distillery  rum  to  which  he  has  become 
accustomed,  The  man  of  nervous  organism,  who  knows 
he  is  guilty  of  the  crime  for  which  he  is  soon  to  be  tried, 
can  hardly  be  expected  to  enjoy  the  special  meal  when  he 
reflects  upon  the  infinite  possibilities  of  where  he  maybe 
next  Christmas. 

And  how  about  the  murderer  !  There  are  in  the  Tombs 
now  several  prisoners  whose  crime  can  be  called  by  ne 
milder  name  than  murder.  As  they  look  forward  to  the 
death  of  1879,  and  the  hidden  scenes  of  1880,  it  strikes  me 
that  the  bone  upon  which  they  might  be  gnawing  would 
turn  cold  in  their  grasp  and  the  most  bounteous  dessert 
lose  it  piquancy.  Still  you  can't  tell.  Look  at  the  plow- 
man's appetite  which  the  average  victim  of  the  gallows 
generally  possesses.  "  After  sleeping  well  for  five  or  six 
hours  the  condemned  awoke  and  ate  a  hearty  breakfast  of 
ham  and  eggs."    Such  is  always  in  the  newspapers. 

Toujour*  ham  and  eggs  I  There  must  be  some  reason  for 
this.  It  is  strange,  but  it  is  no  more  certain  that  each 
"  nigger  "  hung  down  South  goes  straight  to  the  bosom  of 
Abraham  than  that  the  last  breakfast  of  those  who  are 
roped  into  the  other  world  is  of  ham  and  eggs. 

But  the  coming  Christmas  dinner  is  a  much  more  pleas- 
ant subject  than  a  murderer's  breakfast. 

All  of  the  missions,  schools,  and  other  charitable  asso- 
ciations which  begin  at  the  Five  Points  and  seem  to  crop 
up  everywhere  between  that  section  and  High  Bridge, 
will  celebrate  Christmas  in  the  usual  way.  The  children 
1  will  be  scrubbed  until  their  little  ears  and  noses  are 
awfully  sore,  and  then,  after  singing  a  lot  of  chilly 
hymns,  they  will  be  set  loose  upon  the  provender. 

In  the  Sailors'  Snug  Harbor,  on  Staten  Island,  and  in 
the  city's  senile  retreats— such  as  the  Home  for  the  Re- 
formation of  Indigent  Widows  over  90  years  of  age— there 


32 


GLIMPSES     OF     G  OTHAM. 


win  be  a  high  oid  time.  Many  gum  games  will  be  played 
upon  the  turkeys,  and,  in  view  of  the  condition  of  the 
teeth  of  these  aged  Avards,  it  is  to  be  hoped  the  fowls 
cooked  for  them  will  possess  few  of  the  attributes  charac- 
terizing the  boarding-house  turkey. 

I  will  pass  lightly  over  this  portion  of  the  subject.  If  I 
choose  to  put  all  my  money  where  it  will  do  the -most 
good  for  the  directors  of  the  "Yellow-Eyed  Wild-Cat 
Mining  Company  "  and  so  curtail  myself  that  the  Christ- 
mas of  1879  still  finds  me  in  the  "  forlorn  hope  "  that  at- 
tacks the  boarding-house  turkey,  it  is  purely  a  matter  of 
private  misery,  and  needs  no  prying  into. 

That  is,  the  subject  doesn't.  As  for  the  turkey  the  re- 
verse is  considerably  the  case. 

The  proper  spread  for  the  day  is  what  you  will 
probably  find  in  the  homes  of  the  men  who  have  been 
making  a  million  a  week  lately  in  Wall  street,  and  by  the 
same  token  there  are  more  than  a  few  families  in  New 
York  on  that  day  who  will  not  have  even  a  stereopticon 
view  of  a  turkey  for  their  Christmas  owing  to  this  same 
Wall  street  agitation. 

Such  families  will  have  "lame  ducks"  for  dinner— a 
melancholy  lay  out. 

Better  is  a  good  dinner  with  fine  herbs  than  none  at  all, 
and  I  take  it  that  a  Christmas  table  fixed  up  with  plenty 
of  Kussell  Sage  would  seem  appetizing.  Jay  Gould  will 
probably  dine  well.  Gould  suggests  "gold,"  and  " gold " 
suggests  "mint."  All  these  magnates  need  have  no 
worrying  fear  about  being  able  to  collar  a  square  meal. 
There  is  scarcely  time  enough  for  them  to  lose  so  much 
money  as  to  force  them  to  do  the  lunch  racket. 

This  is  a  very  good  metropolitan  institution ,  and  is  quite 
a  lucky  idea  for  the  poor,  lonely  wretch  of  a  boarder  who 
has  to  experience  the  dosert  island  loneliness  of  his  hall 
bedroom  until  the  mournful  dinner-bell  rings  and  sum- 
mons him  to  his  mathematical  share  of  the  popular  bird. 
I  refer,  of  course,  to  the  elegant  lunches  which  the  hotels 
and  big  bars  spread  for  their  guests.  If  you  arrive  early 
at  one  of  these  tables  you  are  sure  to  fare  well.  They  are 
exquisitely  arranged  with  glittering  silver  and  snowy 
linen,  and  really  look  so  pretty  that  it  seems  a  shame  to 
disturb  the  picture.  It  only  seems  so  for  half  a  second. 
Then  you  arm  yourself  with  a  fork,  and  while  the  waiter 
geta  you  a  bit  of  turkey  or  duck  you  go  to  spearing  pickled 
oysters. 

The  only  drawback  about  the  free  lunch  on  Christmas 
day,  outside  of  making  it  impossible  for  a  man  to  eat  a 
set  dinner  anywhere,  is  that  the  leaning  your  waistcoat 
against  the  numerous  bars  is  apt  to  result  in  partial  or 
complete  intoxication.  At  least,  I  have  heard  so.  That, 
however,  is  a  phase  of  the  question  which  I,  moralist 
though  I  be,  have  nothing  to  do  with.  These  are  the 
merry  holiday  times,  and  I  am  not  going  to  preach  any 
teetotali-m. 

Christinas  is  a  pretty  good  day  with  the  theatres,  but 
not  so  good  as  Thanksgiving  day  and  by  no  means  as  bad 
as  New  Year's  day.  They  will  all  give  matinees,  and  in 
the  surrounding  towns  for  fifty  miles  around  there  will 
he  two  performances  by  snap  companies  that  are  always 
made  up  long  in  advance.  Very  few  of  these  ventures 
fail,  and  in  the  majority  of  instances  you  will  see  that 
real  good  names  are  on  the  programmes. 

I  always  pity  the  show  people  and  envy  the  manager  on 


Christmas.  He  can  always  be  at  home  in  the  bosom  of 
own  turkey  if  he  want's  to.  but  the  players  must  take  the 
bird  on  the  fly,  or  in  the  flies,  or  on  the  wing,  or  in  the 
wings.  Anyway  so  that  you  get  it.  I  think  it  would  be  a 
jolly  good  idea  to  play  no  pieces  on  Christmas  day  save 
those  that  were  based  upon  the  idea,  and  I  would  have  it 
so  arranged  that  the  denouement  should  take  place  at 
dinner,  a  real  dinner,  no  papier  mashe  affair.  An  ingeniouc 
author  could  serve  the  fool  of  the  plot  with  the  part  that 
goes  over  the  fence  last,  while  the  villain  might  be 
swindled  out  of  his  dinner  entirely. 

Christmas  is  a  more  than  usually  festive  day  at  the 
clubs,  those  gorgeous  institutions  where  rich  young  swells 
spend  money  twice  over  by  squandering  both  cash  and 
time.  And  we  know  what  old  Tempus  is.  Time  is  money, 
and  that  is  the  reason  itfugits.  A  clubman  is  called  upon 
to  partake  of  the  extra  lunch  which  wich  tho  steward  has 
spread,  and  if  he  doesn't  dip  into  the  champagne  and 
brandy  punch  he  is  a  renegade.  Poor  Fechter  1  That  was 
his  favorite  drink. 

What  is  Christmas  among  the  starving  poor  in  our 
reeking  realm,  for  it  is  a  fact  that  we  always  have  them 
with  us  despite  flurries  in  Wall  street  and  business  booms. 
I  shudder  to  think.  The  Christmas  of  the  poor,  as 
touched  by  the  pen  of  Dickens,  yielded  to  that  wizard 
some  of  his  best  creations.  But  I  do  not  allude  to  that 
kind  of  poor.  I  mean  the  actually  starving,  always  hun- 
gry, desperate,  wicked,  wolfish  element  of  our  squalid 
population  that  hides  in  cellars,  skulks  in  alleys,  and  re- 
fuses, perhaps  logically  enough,  to  see  any  good  in  a  so- 
ciety which  forces  them  to  their  condition  when  all  the 
rest  of  the  world  is  making  merry. 

I  shouldn't  like  to  go  through  Jersey  street  at  midnight 
on  Christmas  eve.  The  appearance  of  a  citizen  with  the 
outward  semblance  of  having  had  something  to  eat,  not  to 
mention  the  liklihood  of  his  possessing  a  dollar  in  his 
pocket,  would  be  too  nmch  for  the  Jersey  street  people. 
Taking  the  time  of  the  visit  into  consideration  they  would 
resent  it  as  an  insult,  and  the  visitor  would  probably  fur- 
nish the  mincemeat  for  the  next  day's  pie. 

It  is  natural  for  the  poor  to  feel  more  desperate  than 
usual  about  the  holiday  times.  I  do.  There  isn't  a  Christ- 
mas or  a  New  Year's  that  doesn't  inspire  me  with  some- 
thing of  the  sensations  of  a  pirate.  This  comes  from  hav- 
ing neither  money  nor  a  contented  spirit,  which  they  say 
is  the  same  thing  if  not  a  better  article.  Well  and  good, 
it  may  be  so,  but  if  I  had  a  cart-load  of  contentment  just 
now  I'd  willingly  supply  the  neighborhood  at  so  much  a 
bushel. 

Christmas  after  all  is  the  day  for  the  little  ones.  It  be- 
longs to  them.  Candies,  bon-bons,  cake,  fairy  stories  and 
pantomimes  should  characterize  it  chiefly.  Santa  Claus 
is  a  reality  up  to  a  certain  age,  and  it  is  a  good  idea  that 
he  is.  WTe  lose  the  charming  superstitious  of  adolescence 
quite  soon  enough.  Personally,  I  regretted  sadly  at  the 
time  the  discovery  of  the  fact  that  there  was  no  such  gen- 
tleman as  the  one  whom  I  fondly  believed  enjoyed  his 
yearly  sleigh-ride  over  the  roofs  and  preferred  coming 
down  the  chimney  to  any  other  way  of  entering  the 
house. 

I  shall  hang  up  my  stockings  all  the  same. 

It  may  bring  luck  and  obviate  the  necessity  of  my  hang- 
ing up  the  bar-t>»,lHer  on  the  corner. 


A    LADY    WHO    WANTS    MONEY, 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


HEW    YEAR'S    CALLS. 


I  notice  that  there  has  been  the  usual  row  in  the  news- 
papers about  the  young  ladies  having  wine  on  New  Year's 
day. 

And  I  expect  to  notice  on  New  Year's  day  the  usual  I 
amount  of  drawing-room  drunkenness,  diUetante  debauch-  I 
ery  and  fashionable  fuddling. 

The  institution  of  making  and  receiving  New  Year's  I 
callr  i3  one  which  New  York  has  inherited  from  its  good,  J 
old  Dutch  ancestry,  and  precisely  as  it  is  true  that  it  will 
never  fall  into  desuetude,  so  is  it  true  that  the  temperance 
table  will  never  become  very  fashionable.  The  ministers 
may  preach,  and  total  abstinence  papers  may  shriek 
annually  in  cold  water  articles,  but  the  custom  of  drink- 
ing a  glass  of  wine  beside  the  cradle  of  the  baby  year  is  so 
deep-seated  that  it  is  scarcely  probable  it  will  be  done 
away  with  under  the  pressure  of  any  purely  reformatory 
movement. 

And,  besides,  why  should  it  be  abolished  ?  This  talk  of 
many  a  young  man  getting  his  first  drink  from  Beauty's 
hand  in  a  Fifth  avenue  parlor  while  making  a  New  Year's 
call,  and  then  rushing  swiftly  to  a  drunkard's  grave,  is 
all  rot. 

That  kind  of  young  man  will  get  his  first  drink  and  do 
the  drunkard's  grave  business  with  commendable  rapidity 
by  merely  utilizing  the  saloon  advantages  to  be  found  on 
every  side.  He  need-never  step  into  a  parlor  where  the 
refining  influence  of  woman  is  to  be  met  with,  and  ten  to 
one,  if  he  exists  at  all,  he  is  the  kind  of  sottish  calf  that 
drinks  himself  into  the  jim-jams  by  one  spree,  and  then 
jumps  out  of  the  window  to  spike  himself  upon  the  area 
railings  below. 

The  New  Year's  table  is  spread  for  gentlemen  by  ladies, 
and  it  is  expected  that  a  man  calling  himself  a  gentleman 
will  know  how  to  deport  himself  at  it.  I  have  made  New 
Year's  calls  for  many  years,  and  have  never  seen  an 
instance  where  what  was  drunk  put  one  beyond  the  extra 
vivacious  and  merry  point.  It  is  undeniably  true  that 
some  very  young  men  do  get  drunk.  But  then  they  can 
scarcely  be  called  gentlemen,  and  their  behavior  must  not 
be  cited  in  an  argument  against  the  ladies  offering  cham- 
pagne and  sherry  along  with  the  cold  turkey  and  the 
salads. 

They  would  get  drunk  at  the  hotels  and  bars  anyhow, 
the  only  difference  being  that  the  intoxicating  agents 
would  not  be  near  so  good  as  those  to  be  met  with  in  the 
parlors  of  society. 

I  tike  it  that  this  will  be  a  very  brilliant  New  Year's. 
It  should  be.    For  some  time  past  we  have  had  rather 
doleful  ones,  and  it  is  now  that  we  should  break  the  spell 
and  sail  into  1880  with  the  determination  to  make  it  a  ! 
banner  year  of  prosperity.    I  will  admit  thatmysensa-  ' 
tions  on  January  2nd,  at  about  7  a.  m.,  may  be  of  such  a  | 
rueful  nature  as  to  make  it  impossible  for  me  to  see  any- 
thing but  breakers  ahead,  but  that  will  be  merely  a  sample  ! 
of  private  woe,  easily  removed  by  the  judicious  use  of 
eognac  and  Delatour's  soda,  which  can  have  no  effect  i 
Dpon  the  improvement  in  the  general  outlook.    By  con- 
lulting  the  cards  that  I  have  already  received  I  find  that 
Borne  ladies  who  have  been  clubbing  together  at  one  table 
lor  a  few  years  back  are  going  to  receive  independently 


this  time.  That  augurs  well.  It  means  that  the  down- 
town business  of  the  old  man  is  looking  up. 

I  have  seen  in  my  time  some  gorgeous  tables,  and  if  I 
slap  into  my  dress  suit  on  Thursday  next  to  make  calls  I 
anticipate  a  repetition  of  the  festive  magnificence.  On 
my  list  are  the  names  of  two  or  three  hmafide  teetotal 
people.  There  will  be  no  wine  there,  and  no  one  will  ex- 
pect any.  And  what  a  swinish  idea  it  is,  anyhow,  to 
think  that  getting  a  drink  is  the  chief  end  of  this  beauti- 
ful custom.  I  take  more  pleasure  in  meeting  the  ladies. 
My  next  pleasure  is  a  salad,  which  I  get  at  a  particular 
house.  In  fact,  I  attend  to  all  details  of  eating  and  drink- 
ing at  this  one  table,  exercising  only  my  esthetic  qualities 
at  other  places  I  may  visit. 

New  York's  belles  certainly  do  present  a  stunning  sight 
when  arrayed  for  the  reception  of  New  York's  young  men 
on  New  Year's  day.  I  remember  last  New  Year's  day  that 
I  called  in  Madison  avenue  upon  a  lady  whose  costume 
was  simply  superb,  only,  as  I  thought  then,  it  wasn't  all 
there.  But  it  was;  every  inch  that  had  been  intended 
was  in  the  dress.  I  didn't  object  to  the  semi-nudity  of  the 
exhibition,  but  I  thought  of  SamuelJohnson  when  he  told 
Garrick:  "  Davy,  I  sha'n'tcome  behind  the  scenes  at  your 
theatre  any  more.  The  silk  stockings  and  white  bosoms 
of  your  actresses  excite  my  amatory  propensities  and 
render  me  unfit  for  work  on  the  dictionary." 

If  the  ministers  want  to  howl  about  social  misconduct 
on  New  Year's  day  let  them  preach  against  respectable 
married  ladies  and  young  women  who  expect  to  be  wives 
dressing  so  decolleU  that  a  half-fuddled  fast  young  man 
about  town  might  fall  into  the  natural  mistake  of  forget- 
ting where  he  was. 

In  fact,  I  don't  know  but  what  the  ladies  of  the  demi- 
monde on  dress,  or  rather  undress,  occasions  are  a  little 
more  severe.  They  can  afford  to  be,  just  as  the  married 
woman,  safe  in  her  position,  can  afford  some  of  the 
artistic  freedom  of  the  painter's  model. 

Speaking  of  women  in  whose  bright  lexicon  of  youth 
there  is  no  such  word  as  virtue,  reminds  me  that  New 
Year's  day  is  made  much  of  by  the  most  stylish  and  popu- 
lar of  that  class.  I  have  seen  tables  spread  in  haunts  of 
gilded  vice  that  outshone  in  splendor  any  to  be  found  on 
Fifth  avenue.  The  collation,  the  linen,  the  silver,  the 
wine,  the  servants  and  all  the  other  details  were  furnish- 
ed on  that  scale  of  reckless  magnificence  always  assumed 
by  such  people. 

Here  it  is  the  order  of  the  day  to  get  drunk,  or  rather 
drunker,  since  the  visitors  all  come  late,  and  half  of  them 
wouldn't  call  at  all  if  looking  upon  the  wine  when  it  was 
red  had  not  simultaneously  inflamed  their  wanton  quali- 
ties and  unseated  their  judgment. 

Let  us  go  further  down  the  ladder  and  see  how  the  lower 
strata  of  New  York  city  observe  its  greatest  holiday.  We 
are  now  in  the  proper  field  for  the  workmen  of  Dr.  Crosby 
and  the  Society  for  the  Suppression  of  Vice. 

Take  the  barrooms,  for  instance.  Every  one  of  them 
of  any  pretensions  to  style  has  a  New  Year's  table  in  the 
saloon  or  a  room  up-stairs.  I  shall  always  remember 
what  a  jolly  time  I  had  in  a  Third  avenne  house  last  year. 
The   table  was  in  the  second   story,  front,  and  mi  ^o 


34 


GLIMPSES     OF     GOTHAM. 


ample  and  so  crowded  with  dishes  and  bottles  that  the 
guests  ate  and  drank  only  by  using  that  dexterity  neces- 
sary in  a  steamer  stateroom  when  five  or  six  attempt  to 
toss  off  a  "  bon-voyage  "  glass  at  once. 

I  was  introduced  all  around,  and,  being  put  forward  as 
something  vague  in  the  newspaporial  and  book  line,  found 
myself  suddenly  raised  to  the  position  of  special  guest, 
even  eclipsing  the  claims  to  that  distinction  put  forward 
by  an  ex-alderman,  who  had  a  very  red  face  and  most 
tremendous  appetite. 

We  drank  hot  whiskey  principally,  and  the  men  did 
not  hesitate  to  smoke  cigars.  You  can  imagine  the  con- 
dition in  which  the  atmosphere  was  in  in  a  little  while. 
Owing  to  the  cloud  of  smoke  that  rested  upon  the  table 
it  was  as  much  as  I  could  do  to  keep  the  buxom  landlady 
located.  She  seemed  to  float  o'er  the  scene  like  a  vol- 
uptuous fairy. 

The  narrow  stairs  were  crowded  with  drinkers  from 
the  bar  below,  who  were  being  sent  to  the  wife  by  the 
husband  in  shoals.  Under  all  these  circumstances  the 
affair  would  have  passed  off  pleasantly  enough  if  some 
one  hadn't  introduced  the  subject  of  politics. 

My  red-faced  alderman,  glass  in  one  hand  and  turkey 
bone  in  the  other,  was  on  his  unsteady  legs  in  a  moment. 
It  took  about  another  moment  for  a  man  near  the  door  to 
call  the  alderman  a  liar. 

The  glass  Avent  first  in  the  direction  of  the  offender, 
then  the  turkey  bone,  then  a  decanter,  etc.  I  didn't  take 
notes  at  the  time,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  the  alderman 
got  on  the  table,  which  was  a  sort  of  barricade,  and  tried 
to  crawl  over  it.  Some  one  pulled  the  table-cloth  vio- 
lently off,  alderman  and  all,  and,  the  fight  becoming  gen- 
eral, the  air  appeared  to  me  to  be  literally  packed  with 
flying  tumblers,  bottles,  jars  of  oysters,  and  other  mis- 
siles. 

The  bottle  was  taken  up  on  the  stairs  and  communi- 
cated itself  to  the  barroom.  Seriously  I  was  uncom- 
fortable, although  I  had  suffered  nothing  more  dangerous 
than  a  scalp  wound,  due  to  my  being  in  the  way  of  a 
winged  tumbler. 

It  was  then  that  by  the  masterly  move  of  crawling 
under  the  table  I  reached  madame,  who  was  as  much  in 
a  corner  as  it  was  possible. 

I  asked  her  how  I  could  extricate  her  from  her  warm 
position,  and  it  was  then  she  thought  of  reaching  a  bath- 
room by  a  door  against  which  the  table  had  rested.  It 
didn't  now,  because  it  was  upside  down.  The  brawlers 
were  nearly  all  on  the  landing  and  stairs,  with  the  police 
in  the  possession  of  the  barroom. 

We  reached  the  bath-room,  but  as  it  gave  upon  the 
short  hall  where  the  stairs  were  it  was  clear  she  couldn't 
go  out  just  yet. 

The  situation  was  embarrassing,  I  knew  the  proprietor 
was  jealous,  and  there  was  no  mistake  about  his  being 
drunk. 

The  window  remained.     Recommending  Mrs.  to 

take  a  bath  and  compose  herself,  and  seeing  to  it  that  I 
had  firmly  locked  and  bolted  the  door  through  which  we 
came,  I  got  out  of  the  bath-room  window  on  to  a  shed 
and  jumped  into  the  back  yard  of  the  saloon. 


To  meet  with  what  fate  ? 

To  be  collared  by  srpohceman,  who  was  posted  there, 
and  taken  to  the  station  house.  Several  of  the  New  Year's 
callers  were  already  on  hand  when  I  entered,  among 
them  the  ex-alderman,  who  had  preferred  a  charge  of 
deadly  assault  against  some  one  evidently  not  present. 

The  alderman  was  most  assuredly  a  pitiable  sight.  He 
had  a  black  eye,  some  of  his  hair  was  scraped  off,  and 
there  was  a  pickled  oyster  entangled  in  his  left  beard. 

The  moment  his  fish-like  eye  fell  upon  me  he  said,  tri- 
umphantly, to  the  sergeant  : 

"There  he  is.  That's  the  viper  that  said  I  was  n.  g. 
and  hit  me  with  the  cruet  stand." 

If  I  had  suddenly  been  in  collision  with  an  iceberg  I 
could  not  have  been  more  astonished. 

"Looks like  it,  too,"  remarked  the  sergeant.  "Evi- 
dently an  old  hand." 

I  didn't  say  a  word,  except  to  answer  that  I  was  born 
here,  could  read  and  write,  etc.,  and  then  "  for  crime  un- 
known I  went  to  my  dungeon  cell." 

Of  course,  it  was  all  right  when  the  Captain  came  in, 
and  I  got  home  shortly  after  dark,  rather  preferring  the 
gloom,  in  fact. 

This  secret  has  lain  in  my  breast  all  through  the  year 
that  is  now  having  its  last  round  with  old  Father  Time, 
and  I  would  not  have  told  it  save  as  a  warning  to  my 
readers. 

It  is  perhaps  better  to  confine  yourself  to  legitimate 
calling.  If  you  must  visit  the  gin  dealers  avoid  the 
saloons  with  political  proclivities,  and  do  not  drink  too 
much  hot  whiskey. 

And  never  allow  yourself  to  be  double-banked  in  a 
corner  of  a  little  second  story  front  room. 

In  closing  let  me  give  my  readers  a  few  rules  for  ob- 
servance in  calling  : 

No.  1.  Engineer  it  to  have  some  swell  friend  invite  you 
to  a  seat  in  his  carriage.  By  doing  this  you  avoid  being 
struck  with  a  small-pox  hack,  and  besides  you  visit  all 
his  friends,  who  will  send  you  cards  next  year. 

2.  Get  ninety-cent  gloves,  and  about  five  pairs.  Yo» 
always  show  a  good  hand  then,  as  you  can  put  them  on 
between  houses. 

3.  Say  "yes"  promptly  when  the  people  who  have  no 
wine  visible  ask  you  faintly  to  have  a  glass.  You  may 
not  get  any  wine,  but  it's  fun. 

4.  If  you  run  across  a  fellow  who  is  soft  on  one  of  the 
ladies  you  have  seen  during  the  day  tell  him  that  his 
rival  has  been  there  hours,  and  you  think  has  sent  for  his 
trunk. 

5.  Take  your  worst  umbrella  along  if  it  rains  or  snows, 
but  never  leave  a  house  without  an  umbrella. 

6.  Tell  all  the  jealous  married  women  that  you  have 
just  left  their  husbands  at  So-and-so's,  naming  a  rich 
widow  who  is  reported  as  being  fast. 

7.  Don't  mix  your  drinks,  but  get  comfortably  full  on 
good  champagne. 

8.  Don't  leave  money  in  your  overcoat,  and  remember 
where  you  put  your  overshoes. 

By  so  doing  you  will  pass  the  "  Happy  New  Year," 
which  Paul  Prowler,  Esq.,  now  wishes  you. 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


35 


PEOPLE     WHO    LIVE    BY    THEIR    WITS. 


There  isn't  a  city  in  the  world  more  densely  infested 
with  the  social  parasites  called  'card  fortune  tellers" 
than  New  York. 

Their  style,  their  names,  residences  and  characteristics 
generally  have  changed  since  poor  Doesticks  wrote  his 
'Witches,"  but  they  exist  in  sufficient  quantities  to 
fleece  the  rural  and  the  unwary  generally,  to  trade  upon 
the  weak  spots  in  human  nature,  which  they  have  studied 
as  closely  as  Balzac,  and  to  make  for  themselves  a  very 
decent  living. 

Take  up  a  morning  paper,  the  Herald  especially.  Under 
the  heads  of  'Astrology"  and  "Fortune  Telling"  you 
will  find  scores  of  advertisements,  in  which  the  adver- 
tisements profess  to  cast  your  horoscope,  to  show  you 
your  future  wife  or  husband,  and  all  for  the  remarkably 
cheap  sum  of  fifty  cents,  ladies  a  quarter. 

I  could  never  understand  the  economical  distinction 
made  in  favor  of  the  ladies.  It  is  probably  based  on  the 
fact  that  they  believe  a  great  deal  more  readily  than  the 
others,  and  that  they  are  more  frequent  customers. 

I  am  sure  that  if  I  didn't  like  the  first  twenty-five  cent 
fortune  told  me  I  would  go  again  and  to  another  shop. 
Bv  perseverance  and  a  liberal  outlay  of  quarters  it  is 
possible  to  strike  a  "  hummer." 

It  seems  strange  that  these  men  and  women  should 
flourish  in  an  age  so  enlightened  as  this  and  in  a  city 
which  possesses  the  focussed  civilization  of  the  day,  but 
it  is  true.  I  know  personally  one  woman  and  one  man 
who  do  nothing  else  for  a  living,  and  who  have  confided 
in  me  that  customers  are  never  scarce.  But  what  is  the 
use  of  speculating  on  such  idiosyncrasies  of  fifty  and 
twenty-five  cent  shrimps  when  a  gilded  whale  like  Com- 
modore v'anderbilt  frequently  ran  his  business  on  the  pre- 
dictions of  soothsayers,  and  was  altogether  as  super- 
stitious as  a  sailor. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  the  lower  class  of  fortune  tell- 
ers—those who  still  stick  to  Egyptian  mummery  and 
come  the  red  curtain  and  black  velvet  gown  over  you,  and 
the  other,  more  modern,  whose  office  is  very  little  differ- 
ent from  that  of  a  real  estate  firm,  and  who  go  about  the 
business  in  a  cold-blooded  manner.  Both  styles  take. 
The  hysterical  women  and  servant  girls  generally  prefer 
the  people  with  the  strange  names  and  the  outlandish 
garb.  It  seems  more  like  the  genuine  astrological  affair, 
and  is  certainly  more  for  the  money. 

There  are  two  or  three  of  these  mystery  shops  in 
Bleecker  street.  The  one  I  know  is  in  Bedford  street.  I 
have  frequently  been  a  concealed  witness  of  a  seance  and 
have  helped  drink  the  beer  into  which  the  money  was 
immediately  turned  when  the  woman— it  is  more  fre 
quently  a  woman— was  gone. 

If  it  wasn't  that  these  poor  wretches  actually  believe 
the  fanfaronade  of  taffy  served  up  to  them,  that  they  are 
so  dumb  or  superstitious  that  they  cannot  see  that  the 
whole  system  is  conducted  on  the  stale  principle  of  telling 
every  card  in  the  pack  after  you  have  become  possessed 
of  a  knowledge  of  one— if  it  wasn't  for  this  which  makes 
taking  their  money  a  species  of  revenge  wreaked  upon 
them  for  being  so  stupid— I  could  laugh  when  I  am  behind 
the  Bedford  street  curtains. 

But  laughter  is  impossible  in  the  face  of  genuine  tears 


and  the  quavering  voice  in  which  the  dead  are  asked 
after.  When  it  is  a  light-headed  girl,  who  is  anxious 
about  her  future  lord,  the  case  is  different. 

Mr.  Charles  Foster  is  at  the  head  of  all  fortune  tellers 
in  this  country.  He  charges  $5,  and  his  statements  are 
as  remarkable  and  startling,  done  as  they  are  without 
any  pretence  of  side-show  business,  as  the  drivellings  of 
the  Bleecker  and  Bedford  street  astrologers  are  puerile 
and  transparent. 

I  do  not  pretend  to  speak  of  him  critically,  and  have  in- 
troduced him  simply  to  make  the  magic  line  complete. 
He  has  always  more  work  than  he  can  attend  to,  and  is 
especially  sought  after  by  ladies.  As  many  swell  car- 
riages have  halted  at  his  door  as  ever  lined  the  curb  at 
Grace  church,  and  in  many  instances  the  equipages  are 
the  same.  He  gave  me  a  setting  once,  and  I  shall  never 
forget  what  he  said  to  me  : 

"  You  must  remember  everything  I  say,  young  man, 
because  I  shall  be  in  a  trance,  and  will  retain  nothing  of 
what  passes  from  the  spirit  world  to  you  through  me." 

Then  he  took  off  his  coat— for  the  day  was  very  warm- 
lit  a  twenty -five  cent  cigar,  and  began. 

What  he  told  me  doesn't  matter  now.  It  was  nothing 
to  smile  at,  I  can  assure  you.  What  I  want  to  do  is  to  call 
attention  to  the  peculiarities  of  his  trance. 

His  cigar  happening  to  go  out  he  lit  it  with  a  fresh 
match,  and  then  went  on.  Some  one  wrapped  at  the 
door.  He  excused  himself  and  attended  to  the  business, 
which  I  think  had  something  to  do  with  dinner,  after 
which  we  descended  into  Hades  again.  All  this  in  a 
trance  1  I  think  he  was  still  in  the  trance  when  he  pro- 
duced a  decanter  and  gave  me  as  good  a  glass  of  brandy  as 
I  ever  tasted. 

I  can  understand  the  success  of  such  people,  but  when 
it  comes  to  the  shuffling  of  a  greasy  pack  of  cards  by  the 
coarse,  red,  fat  fingers  of  an  east  side  seress,  who  ekes 
out  her  financial  requirements  by  taking  in  washing,  per- 
haps, I  am  willing  to  confess  that  I  am  puzzled  ;  but  as 
long  as  people  won't  sit  thirteen  at  table  or  undertake  a 
new  business  on  Friday,  the  half  and  quarter  dollars  will 
continue  to  flow  into  the  purses  of  these  operators  from 
those  of  their  dupes. 

I  could  explain  all  the  card  swindles,  spirit  photograph- 
ing and  all  the  rest  of  the  damned  nonsense,  if  it  waB  at 
all  necessary.  It  isn't.  The  peculiar  class  making  up 
the  patrons  of  the  astrologers  are  beyond  the  reacli  of 
reason.  They  have  Napoleon's  dream  book  in  their  bu- 
reau drawers,  and  they  are  are  as  much  sunk  in  super- 
stition of  the  absurd  sort  as  are  the  Vaudoo  negroes  of 
New  Orleans. 

Another  source  of  revenue  for  those  who  are  smart 
enough  to  coin  money  out  of  the  supernatural  is  the 
spiritualistic  seance.  The  reader  will  at  first  think  I  mean 
shows  given  in  halls  by  regular  professors.  Not  at  all. 
The  people  to  whom  I  refer  are  ordinary  citizens  in  the 
humbler  classes,  who  have  discovered  suddenly  that  they 
are  "mediums."  As  soon  as  it  is  positively  established 
that  an  Indian  maiden  in  the  spirit  land  has  selected 
them  as  a  speaking  trumpet,  then  the  vocation  in  which 
they  are  jngaged  is  dropped,  and  all  their  resources  are 
turned  toward  a  cabinet  show. 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


I  have  been  to  many,  but  the  one  in  Grand  street,  run 
by  a  Mrs.  Wilson,  I  think,  is  perhaps  just  the  biggestfraud 
of  them  all.  You  pay  25  cents  to  sit  on  a  hard  chair,  be- 
tween two  long-haired  disciples,  and  you  are  expected  to 
believe  that  Mrs.  Wilson,  who  disappeared  in  the  cabinet 
is  still  tied  to  her  chair,  and  that  the  very  hideous  look- 
ing gentleman,  with  the  black  beard,  who  tells  us  through 
the  opening  in  the  door  how  he  was  drowned  in  Lake 
Michigan  forty  years  ago,  is  really  "Uncle  Billy,"  and 
aot  Mrs.  Wilson  with  a  mask  and  whiskers. 

If  there  is  any  movement  on  the  part  of  one  of  the  doubt- 
ers to  get  at  Uncle  Billy,  he  is  immediately  squelched, 
and  if  the  spirit  of  criticism  is  too  active,  why  the  hus- 
band of  the  "  mejum,"  or  some  one  else  declares  that  the 
spirits  cannot  work  save  where  there  is  perfect  har- 
mony. 

That  means  translated— "  we  can  not  continue  to  im- 
pose upon  you  unless  you  sit  perfectly  still  and  believe 
all  we  say." 

Wednesday  and  Saturday  evenings  these  seances 
flourish  all  over  the  city.  The  price  is  generally  25  cents, 
but  there  are  cheaper  entertainments  for  10  cents.  An 
inferior  kind  of  angel  is  used  at  these. 

I  know  a  man  and  his  wife,  she  being  the  "medium," 
who  give  cabinet  entertainments  at  the  houses  of  the 
rich,  just  as  the  "Punch  and  Judy"  man  does,  and  for 
that  matter  just  as  Sarah  Bernhardt  recites  or  models  be- 
fore a  drawing-room  audience,  or  Nilsson  sings,  for  so 
much  a  night. 

This  preeminently  the  proper  racket  to  strike.  No  one 
in  the  Fifth  avenue  parlor  is  rude  enough  to  interfere,  the 
parlor  is  always  big  enough  to  make  the  experiment  a 
tolerable  safe  one,  and  the  whole  affair  is  only  looked 
upon  as  an  agreeable  way  of  passing  the  time.  A  magic 
lantern  is  just  as  good. 

It  is  the  cosmopolitan  character  of  New  York  city  which 
makes  all  this  aberration,  if  I  can  so  define  it,  possible. 
We  have  every  religion  under  the  sun  practised  in 
Gotham.  The  Koran  and  Veda  books  are  read  here  as  regu" 
larly  as  in  the  Orient,  and  I  have  seen  with  my  civilized 
and  christian  optics  the  temple  of  Joss  in  the  Chinese 
quarter  at  a  time  when  a  Chatham  square  cigar  mer- 
chant was  at  his  prayers. 

I  am  not  particularly  acquainted  with  all  its 
ramifications,  but  the  Chinese  religion  con 
tains  the  act  of  prayer  reduced  to  a 
beautiful  system.  They  are  painted  on  fire-cracker  paper, 
and  are  sold  by  a  man  who  makes  prayers  a  specialty. 
When  you  feel  a  little  wicked,  or  are  conscious  of  any 
sensation  which  calls  for  prayer  as  an  antidote,  you  go  to 
the  Joss  church  in  Baxter  street,  and  burn  one  or  two  of 
these  slips.    Certainly  nothing  could  be  more  simple. 

The  Lascars  also  have  their  club  room  in  that  locality, 
and  observe  faithfully  their  religious  devotions.  There  are 
by  no  means  as  many  of  them  in  the  city  as  there  are 
Chinese,  but  there  are  still  enough  to  make  a  colony. 

Travelling  in  Baxter  street  takes  me  "  Five  Points  "  out 
of  my  way. 

Let  us  return.  The  most  magnificent  attempt  ever  mads 


to  introduce  a  magico-religion  into  this  peculiarly  sus- 
ceptible town  was  that  made  by  Mme.  Blavatsky  and  Col 
Olcott. 

These  two  are  now  in  India,  riding  around  on  elephant* 
and  otherwise  disporting  themselves.  The  madame  had 
elegant  apartments  up-town,  fitted  up  with  gloomy  mag. 
niflcence.  She  used  to  hold  seances  there,  and  succeeded 
so  well  in  making  converts  to  the  religion  of  Buddha  that 
1  believe  she  was  enabled  to  form  a  regular  church  oi 
society  previous  to  her  departure.  As  expounded  by 
Mme.  Blavatsky  there  is  something  solid  and  attractive  in 
the  Buddha  faith,  and  if  I  should  change,  it  would  be  t& 
become  one  of  her  disciples. 

Do  not  be  surprised  then  if  I  should  come  down  to  the 
office  sometime,  wearing  a  black  skull-cap,  and  a  chinta 
night-gown  with  snakes  worked  all  over  it. 

Why,  you  naturally  ask,  would  so  conservative  a  ma* 
as  our  Mr.  Prowler,  give  up  the  faith  of  his  childhood? 

I'll  tell  you.  All  the  other  religions  promise  no  felicity 
of  an  absorbing  nature  until  after  death.  If  Mme.  Blav- 
atsky has  been  correctly  reported  she  has  made  a  wonder^ 
ful  discovery,  the  utilization  of  which  means  fortune  iq 
this  world  in  a  very  little  while. 

The  secret  is  this— she  can  dematerialize  articles,  waft 
them  to  some  objective  point,  and  then  by  simple  exer- 
cise of  will,  it  being  all  the  same  whether  she  is  one  or  a 
thousand  miles  away,  she  can  cause  the  object  to  assume 
its  original  form  and  value. 

Mind  that,  its  value,  for  therein  lies  the  applica- 
tion. 

So  far  she  has  succeeded,  so  the  story  runs,  with  nottt 
ing  but  kid  gloves.  That's  enough  for  me.  Mme.  Blavat* 
sky  is  said  to  have  sent  a  pa^  by  the  magic  method  from 
Bombay  to  London. 

When  I  have  learned  to  do  this,  and  perhaps  if  I  am  a 
good  Budlhist  I  may  be  able  to  handle  lace  and  silk  um- 
brellas also,  I  will  have  no  need  to  consult  any  of  the 
fortune  tellers. 

I  will  open  a  shop  in  Paris,  and  one  in  New  York.  By 
the  use  of  my  supernatural  power  I'll  send  enough  kid 
gloves  over  here  at  Paris  prices  to  break  the  market;  a 
sufficient  quantity  of  silk  umbrellas  to  enable  every 
young  man  to  possess  an  elegant  article  to  "  put  up,"  and 
lace  to  that  extent  that  every  back  kitchen  will  have 
some  brand  floating  at  the  windows. 

In  the  meantime  the  custom  house  officials  will  gradu 
ally  commit  suicide  one  by  one,  or  go  to  the  asylum  for 
the  hopelessly  insane. 

The  only  cloud  in  the  sky  is  that  I  don't  believe  the 
madame  can  do  anything  of  the  sort.  She  is  a  fraud,  just 
as  the  Bleecker  street  women  are,  the  only  difference 
being  her  noble  birth,  her  magnificent  style,  and  her  in- 
tellect. 

Col.  Olcott  is  either  a  dupe,  or  he  stands  in  with  her. 

He  was  certainly  fooled  grandly  by  the  Eddy  family 
of  Vermont,  a  member  of  which,  I  see  by  the  papers,  can't 
go  out,  because  one  night  not  long  since  a  drunken  visito'' 
kicked  the  materialized  spirit  on  the  nose. 


GLIMPSES     OF     GOTHAM. 


37 


rMKK  MCD  WOMKET  WHO  DEAL  IK  FANCY  COSTUMES. 


The  business  of  letting  out  costumes— and  that  reminds 
me  that  the  last  one  I  tried  to  wear  needed  considerable 
letting  out— has  its  peculiar  seasons,  just  as  other  voca- 
tions have. 

We  are  now  in  the  ball  period  of  our  metropolitan  exist- 
ence, and  as  the  dealer  in  fantastic  habits  skips  about 
among  his  tinseled  stock  he  feels  like  crying,  "  On  with 
the  dance  I"  It  is  just  at  present  that  he  makes  money, 
or  tries  to,  at  least,  passing  the  rest  of  the  year  as  best  he 
can,  buoyed  up  by  the  same  hope  which  animates  a 
watering-place  hotel  keeper. 

He  is  something  like  such  an  individual  in  several  of 
his  characteristics;  as,  for  instance,  his  charges.  He  en- 
deavors to  come  as  near  getting  for  one  night's  use  of  a 
domino  or  dress  the  price  that  either  would  bring,  if  sold, 
asispossible.  What  is  the  consequence?  He  is  continu- 
ally selling  his  entire  stock  and  getting  it  back  for 
nothing.  This  fact  throws  some  light  also  upon  his  ability 
to  skim  along  so  well  in  the  summer. 

There  are  costumers  and  costumcrs.  Men  like  Lanou- 
ettc,  who  furnish  the  theatres  with  the  dresses  for  this  or 
that  entire  play,  are  at  the  top  of  the  heap.  They  have 
always  lots  of  dresses  to  hire,  but  their  principal  business 
is  to  manufacture  and  sell,  out  and  out.  All  society  ladies 
number  one  or  more  elegant  fancy  dresses  among  their 
toilette  collection,  and  should  be  capable  at  any  moment 
flf  accepting  an  invitation  to  a  public  fancy  dress  ball  or  a 
private  masquerade  without  the  slightest  embarrassment 
or  anxiety  as  to  what  should  be  worn. 

No  real  bon-ton  lady  ever  hires  a  grotesque  ball  dress. 
You  never  know,  you  know,  what  horrid  creature  may 
have  worn  a  costume  that  is  loaned,  and  to  tell  the  truth 
my  lady  is  right.    You  hardly  do  ever  know,  you  know. 

I  irragine  that  the  confessions  of  a  fancy  ball  dress 
would  be  racy  reading.    What  a  pity  they  can't  talk. 

The  humbler  class  of  costumers  are  over  on  the  East 
River  avenues,  Second  avenue  especially,  and  are  also  to 
be  found  along  the  Bowery  and  on  Third  avenue.  They 
have  the  second  floor,  as  a  rule,  and  in  one  of  its  windows 
they  stick  their  sign,  a  sort  of  political  club  transparency 
affair,  with  the  picture  of  an  unhealthy  young  courtier  on 
one  tide,  waiting  for  a  shepherdess  with  a  red  nose  to 
come  around  the  corner  and  join  him. 

When  you  get  up  stairs  you  find  an  old  woman  who  is 
deaf,  a  short  counter,  and  a  lot  of  pawn-shop  shelving 
with  bundles  on  them.  In  the  next  room  there  are  four 
or  five  girls  working  away  at  new  suits  made  out  of  old. 
By  the  judicious  use  of  red  velvet,  ribbons  and  laces  to 
match,  with  a  liberal  allowance  of  spangles,  you  can 
make  a  king's  royal  rig  into  a  bull-fighter's  magnificent 
"get-up,"  or  into  anything  else  for  that  matter. 

There  is  a  sameness  about  the  stock  of  these  people 
which  is  simply  disgusting.  Vivandieres,  muleteers, 
kings,  queens,  shepherds,  fat  boys,  French  courtiers,  Pad- 
dies, Dutchmen,  Indians,  etc.,  etc.,  are  the  constantly 
recurring  features. 

This  year  there  is  a  run  on  "  Pinafore,"  and  no  fancy 
\s\\  will  be  comDlete  without  Little  Buttercup,  Josephine, 
,'ir  Joseph,  Dick  Deadeye,  and   the  remainder  of  that 


Why  is  the  opera  of  "  Pinafore  "  like  the  poor,  and,  itf 
some  cases,  the  very  poor  ? 

Because  it  is  always  with  us.  The  costumers  will  keep 
its  melodious  story  before  the  public  long  after  it  haf 
ceased  to  be  enacted  upon  the  stage,  and  in  years  to  come, 
when  I  who  write  and  you  who  read  these  lines  have  been 
treated  like  bottles  of  champagne  to  the  extent  of  being 
put  on  ice— the  only  difference  being  that  the  champagne 
will  possess  all  the  life — costumers  will  bring  down  fancy 
suits,  spread  them  upon  the  counter,  and  then  say: 

"  There's  a  good  Sir  Joseph  Porter,  K.  C.  B.,  sir,  and  at 
for  the  lady,  what  could  be  more  charming  than  this 
Josephine?" 

"  But  who  was  Sir  Joseph,  and  what  Josephine  is  iy 

"Ah,  there  you  have  me.  You  know  I  inherited  this 
story  and  stock  from  my  grandfather,  and  the  names  I 
have  just  mentioned  are  on  the  tickets.  Luckily  I  have  8 
sort  of  historical  catalogue.  I  may  be  able  to  get  some 
information  from  it." 

Whereupon  the  costumer  of  the  future  will  read  asfoh 
lows:  "These  are  characters  in  a  musical  work  called 
'  Pinafore,'  written  by  a  Mr.  Gilbert,  of  Sullivan  street.  It 
ran  at  twenty  New  York  theatres  at  once,  and  during  its 
career  all  the  lunatic  asylums  had  to  be  provided  with 
extra  wings  to  accommodate  the  patients  made  mad  by 
hearing  the  tunes.  The  ultimate  consequence  was  that  it 
became  a  paradox,  for  although  successful  it  was  heartily 
damned  all  around.  Men  became  frenzied  when  their 
fellows  whistled  or  hummed  its  tuifes,  and  citizens  were 
wont  to  fall  upon  and  rend  each  other  in  their  excess  of 
rage.  At  last  the  government  interfered,  and  imposed  the 
penalty  of  death  upon  all  transgressors.  Mr.  Gilbert  was 
to  have  been  hanged,  but  escaped  by  showing  that  he  had 
been  changed  at  birth." 

So  much  for  the  costumer  yet  to  be  heard  from.  His 
cousin  of  to-day  is  a  practical  chap,  utterly  unmoved  by 
his  romantic  surroundings.  This  absence  of  poetry  in  the 
composition  of  a  hirer  of  fancy  suits  often  struck  me 
when  I  tried  to  analyze  his  character  and  ascertain  the 
motives  which  led  to  the  choice  of  business.  All  that  I 
have  met  possess  no  more  sentiment  than  a  soap-boiler. 

I  suppose  that  in  the  majority  of  instances  the  men  and 
women  who  take  to  the  trade  are  former  attaches  of  the 
theatres.  Possibly  a  grizzled  costumer  I  know  was  once 
an  actor  himself,  and  began  with  his  own  wardrobe  as 
the  nucleus  of  the  rather  extensive  stock  he  now  pos- 
sesses. It  was  he  who  told  me  the  following  story.  I  will 
put  it  in  my  own  words: 

About  ten  years  ago  a  young  man  climbed  up  to  his 
place  in  Forsyth  street  and  asked  to  be  shown  some  hand- 
some dominos  for  ladies.  He  selected  an  elegant  mouse- 
colored  one,  lined  with  white  satin,  and  got  a  pale  blue 
silk  mask  additionally. 

It  was  just  at  dusk.  Being  the  costliest  domino  in  his 
lot,  the  costumer  asked  for  a  deposit  of  money  to  insure 
its  return.  The  young  man  willingly  complied,  and  paid 
for  it  in  advance.  There  was  no  ball  that  night,  and  the 
dealer  supposed,  of  course,  that  it  was  to  be  worn  at  a 
private  party. 

Next  morning,  at  about  10  o'clock,  a  veiled  woman 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


came  into  the  shop  and  asked  if  a  young  man,  describing 
the  one  in  question  accurately,  had  dealt  there  the  night 
previous. 

It's  part  of  the  business  to  lie,  and  my  old  acquaintance 
experienced  no  trouble  in  unblushingly  remarking  that 
no  such  person  had  been  in  the  place. 

"  I  only  wanted  to  see  if  he  had  asked  you  to  deny  his 
visit,"  she  said,  scornfully,  "  for  he  was  here,  he  did  deal 
with  you,  and  I  now  return  the  goods.  You  can  keep  any 
deposit  he  may  have  left." 

Saying  which  she  slammed  a  small  bundle  upon  the 
counter  and  left.  The  old  man  was  thoroughly  dazed  at 
the  sudden  turn  in  the  conversation,  at  his  discomfiture 
when  he  thought  he  was  very  smart  with  his  innocent 
prevarication,  and  at  the  visit  generally  of  a  woman 
of  whom  he  could  remember  nothing  beyond  her  eyes 
burning  like  coals  back  of  her  veil. 

When  he  recovered  his  senses  he  found  himself  holding 
the  bundle  in  his  hand.    He  undid  it. 

The  mask  was  red,  with  blood,  and  the  domino  had  ten 
Crimson  slashes  across  the  breast. 

He  still  has  that  costume  j  ust  as  it  reached  him.  There 
was  no  murder  reported,  and  he  did  not  hand  it  over  to 
the  police.  But  he  does  not  loan  it.  It  embodies  the  one 
mystery  of  his  life,  the  telling  of  which  never  tires  him. 

It  is  hoped  that  this  dancing  season,  between  now  and 
Lent,  will  be  as  brilliant  as  the  flurry  about  Christmas 
and  the  revival  in  trade  give  us  a  right  to  expect.  It  has 
been  noticable  that  of  late  years  the  so-called  masque- 
rades grew  meaner  and  meaner  in  their  grotesque  display. 
This  came  from  the  young  men  about  town  largely  attend- 
ing each  fancy  dress  ball  with  simply  a  nose  and  a 
domino.  In  order  to  make  the  floor  gay  Clodoche  troupes 
of  grotesque  dancers  had  to  be  hired,  and  even  their 
antics  failed  to  stir  the  guests  upon  the  floor  to  any  degree 
of  enthusiasm. 

If  I  am  to  believe  those  costumers  upon  whom  I  called, 
while  writing  something;  about  masked  balls  was  upon 
my  mind,  the  business  "  boom  "  will  extend  even  to  their 
out-of-the-way  trade.  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  notice  that 
several  societies  that  have  never  done  such  a  thing  before 
announce  the  bal  a  la  masque.  We  may  confidently  expect, 
then,  Terpsichorean  festivals  at  the  Academy,  Irving 
Hall,  and  at  the  Madison  Square  Garden  which  will  recall 
both  the  Gotham  attempts  of  ten  years  ago  and  the  genuine 
article  as  witnessed  in  Paris. 

The  great  trouble  is  with  the  police,  who  have  been 
stupid  enough  during  the  last  few  seasons  to  obtrude  their 
uniformed  presence  upon  the  floor  for  the  purpose  of  pre- 
venting any  can-can  exhibition. 

This  is  simply  absurd.  The  can-can  is  never  vulgar  ex- 
cept when  danced  by  women  in  long  dresses,  and  it  can 
never  hope  to  reach  the  licentious  effect,  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, which  is  so  easily  obtainable  by  the  waltz. 

I  am  bound  to  say,  however,  that  I  consider  masquerade 
balls  immoral  institutions.  This  is  more  so  after  the 
supper  hour  than  before.  When  a  fantastically  dressed 
woman,  who  has  just  eaten  a  few  delicious  birds  and 
washed  them  down  with  champagne,  reaches  the  waxed 
floor  a^riin  and  is  caught  in  the  whirl  of  the  most  demoral- 
izing bovffe  music,  there  comes  between  her  and  her  ideas 
of  propriety  a  gauze-like  curtain,  and  ten  to  one  she  is 
more  lenient  to  mankind  generally,  and  to  her  especial 
escort  in  particular,  than  she  was  before  the  In  n  !i. 

Property  people  at  the  theatres  have  control  Of  :mv 
quantity  of  glittering  rubbish,  and  they  soinetr:i-  turn 
an  honest  penny  by  loaning  a  suit  here  and  thereto  a 
particular  trioud,     \  gn  .>.  man]    ■    onomical  pleasure- 


seekers  make  their  own  suits,  and  some  of  the  most  gro 
tesque  have  to  be  constructed  in  that  way.  I  trouble 
costumes  very  little,  being  content  to  £0  in  full  dress 
under  a  domino  that  cost  me  80c.  five  years  ago.  I  have 
also  a  black  silk  mask  that  I  bought  about  fifteen  years 
back,  and  through  its  eye-holes  I  have  witnessed  a  vast 
amount  of  folly,  fun,  debauch,  immorality,  remorse,  and 
all  the  other  elements  which  go  to  make  up  a  mammoth 
hop  of  the  fancy  pattern. 

The  costumers  do  not  depend  by  any  means  upon  these 
big  dances.  If  they  did  they  would  certainly  starve  to 
death.  All  the  Social  Clubs  and  Tea-Rose  Assemblies, 
coteries  of  young  thugs  and  murderers  of  whom  I  have 
written  already  in  the  Gazette,  must  give  their  annual 
masquerade  ball  in  the  winter,  just  as  they  give  a 
drunken,  head-smashing  excursion  to  Iona  Island  or  Far 
Kockaway  in  the  summer. 

They  have  their  costumer,  and  some  of  the  dresses  he 
turns  out  do  credit  to  his  taste.  These  fellows  all  aspire 
to  silk  stockings  and  small  swords,  and  such  a  lot  of 
French  courtiers,  with  close-cropped  hair  and  prison 
faces,  can  never  be  seen  outside  of  Walhalla  or  Pythagorac 
Halls. 

Then  there  are  any  quantity  of  private  masquerades. 
The  patrons  of  these  are  furnished  largely  by  the  cos- 
tumers, as  are  the  members  of  the  various  amateur 
theatrical  associations  who  give  a  performance  at  a  place 
like  Terrace  Garden  Theatre,  and  then  a  ball  after. 

The  country  for  miles  around  is  furnished  with  fancy 
dresses  by  New  York  costumers.  Sometimes  they  fit  out 
"snap  "  theatrical  organizations,  but  it  is  an  awful  risk. 
Many  a  Claude  Melnotte  or  a  Romeo  has  been  forced  to 
spout  his  dress  in  order  to  get  home,  and  when  such  is  the 
case,  or  where  the  trunks  have  been  seized  by  a  rapacious 
landlord,  the  costumer  is  sure  to  bid  farewell  to  every 
suit,  and  wipe  his  weeping  eyes. 

Colonel  Mapleson,  of  "  Her  Majesty's,"  owns  his  own 
costumes.  When  the  troupe  go  over  to  Brooklyn  to  sing, 
the  huge  boxes  that  have  to  be  taken  along  remind  one  of 
the  moving  of  an  army  baggage  train. 

All  the  opera-bouffe  dresses  in  this  country  are  owned 
by  Maurice  Grau,  and  whether  he  produces  the  operas 
himself  or  not,  it  is  he  who  furnishes  the  grotesque  rigs 
in  which  the  heroes  and  heroines  of  Offenbach  and  Le- 
cocq  are  wont  to  array  themselves. 

I  will  tell  you,  as  I  close,  why  I  never  go  to  a  ball  in  full 
fancy  dress. 

I  was  very  young  and  tender  when  I  attended  a  mas- 
querade disguised  as  a  Sicilian  bandit.  I  danced,  I  ate,  I 
drank,  I  had  a  jolly  time.  It  must  have  been  4  o'clock  in 
the  morning  when  I  got  to  my  boarding  house  in  Seventh 
avenue. 

Then  I  discovered  that  my  room  had  been  entered,  as 
had  several,  my  trunk  rifled  and  every  article  of  clothing 
stolen  save  a  linen  suit.    This  was  in  February. 

For  one  solid  week  I  was  a  Sicilian  bandit,  imprisoned 
in  my  room.  It  took  my  tailor  a  day  to  decide  whethei 
he  could  trust  me,  and  six  more  to  make  a  suit  from  my 
old  measurement.  I  couldn't  send  the  bandit  suit  home, 
because  there  might  have  been  a  Are,  and  I  wanted  some- 
thing to  escape  in.  Better  a  Sicilian  bandit  in  February 
than  a  Zulu.  The  consequence  was  that  my  hire  of  the 
fancy  clothes  was  in  excess  of  the  price  of  my  new  ones* 
and  "  Inn  1  did  throw  off  the  gay  robber  mien  and  appear 
in  civilization  once  more  it  was  with  the  intention  of  get- 
tint;  even  somehow  if  1  had  to  eominit  murder. 

Time  has  mellowed  the  transaction,  but  not  altered  my 
decision.    No  more  bandits  in  mine. 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


39 


♦  CHILDREN    OF    CRIME. 


A  close  observance  of  the  times  as  mirrored  in  the 
doings  of  the  police  and  other  courts  has  convinced  me 
that  the  small  boy,  our  street  gamin,  our  New  York  "  kid," 
who  is  unlike  any  other  adolescent  specimen  of  humani- 
ty under  the  sun,  is  rather  distinguishing  himself. 

He  has  always  been  hard  to  manage,  has  been  the  ter- 
ror and  annoyance  of  the  police,  but  of  late  he  has  taken 
a  spurt  and  surrounded  himself  with  the  romance  of 
positive  wickedness  to  such  a  degree  that  grey-headed 
philanthropy  wipes  its  gold  rimmed  glasses  and  says 
"Bless  my  soul,"  while  justice  finds  her  ante-rooms  as- 
suming the  character  of  a  reformatory  nursery. 

Last  week,  two  boys,  whose  united  ages  make  the  sum 
of  nineteen  years,  overtook  a  little  girl  in  Division  street, 
as  she  was  on  her  way  to  make  some  purchases  at  the 
store  where  her  mother  dealt.  The  subsequent  legal  in- 
vestigations revealed  the  fact  that  these  budding  foot- 
pads had  become  acquainted  in  some  way  with  the  pro- 
posed sortie  to  the  store,  and  arranged  their  plans 
accordingly. 

While  one  held  the  little  girl  the  other  forced  her  to 
give  up  the  thirty-two  cents  which  constituted  the  booty. 
Then  the  highwayboys  fled.  But  they  did  not  long 
enjoy  their  ill  gotten  gains.  The  police  were  put  upon 
their  track,  and  with  nine  cents  still  in  their  possession 
the  lads  were  apprehended  in  Pike  street  rioting  with  a 
mince-pie. 

In  conversation  with  a  court  officer,  while  the  goose  of 
these  marauders  was  being  properly  cooked  in  the  cuisine 
of  justice,  I  learned  that  there  has  been  a  perfect  epi- 
demic of  boyish  misdeeds  lately,  and  that  the  petty 
calendars  are  crowded  with  juvenile  names.  This  set  me 
to  thinking  and  investigating,  and  the  result  has  been 
that  I  am  firmly  convinced  there  exist  in  New  York  city 
to-day  regularly  organized  "  gangs,"  not  of  "  hood- 
lums," or  the  half-grown  ruffians  who  are  the  chief 
element  of  excitement  in  summer  Sunday  excursions, 
but  of  positive  babes,  of  children  who  are  popularly  sup- 
posed to  be  at  school,  or  at  home,  when  on  the  contrary 
they  are  becoming  "Artful  Dodgers,"  and  "Charley 
Bateses"  as  fast  as  a  southern  nigger's  mule  eats  oats 
when  he  gets  a  chance. 

Cases  like  that  of  Pomeroy,  the  Boston  boy  with  the 
white  eye,  I  do  not  include  in  the  consideration  of  the 
subject  I  have  chosen  for  this  paper.  Such  a  phenome- 
non belongs  to  the  realms  of  psychology  and  medical  in- 
vestigation. Pomeroy's  purpose  wag  merely  to  inflict 
torture  upon  lads  smaller  than  himself,  but  the  objective 
point  of  the  New  York  street  waif  is  plunder. 

The  most  astonishing  thing  about  it  all  is  the  organism 
displayed.  In  their  rules  and  regulations,  their  blood- 
curdling oaths,  and  direful  vows  of  vengeance,  we  see  the 
nucleus  of  the  structure  of  the  savage  barbarism  which 
finally  overthrew  the  resplendant  civilization  of  Rome, 
and  which  cheerfully  upholds  me  iu  my  theory  that  all 
boys  are  without  any  moral  sense  whatever,  and  are 
possessed  of  a  positive  tendency  to  the  merciless  nature 
of  the  Fiji  Islanders. 

Why,  there  is  a  six-year-old  youngster  in  our  house 
whose  mother  thinks  is  so  much  of  an  angel  that  she  has 
to  anchor  him  to  the  earth  with  hob-nailed  shoes.  Said 
■hoes  are  capable  of  making  a  most  tremendous  noise, 
but  nothing  to  the  din  the  angel  extracts  from  the  celes- 


tial pastime  of  hammering  the  back  fence  with  a  club— 
(Introduced  to  show  natural  desire  for  hideous  din.) 

The  poor  cat,  which  has  been  forced  to  assume  the 
character  of  tiger,  or  bear,  or  lion,  just  according  to  the 
fancy  which  dominates  the  angel  when  he  invites  two 
boys  next  door  to  a  grand  hunt,  agrees  with  me  that  a 
Ute  Indian  is  a  much  better  individual  than  the  angel  in 
all  respects.  If  a  Ute  Indian  could  only  carry  out  the 
mother's  idea,  and  make  our  angel  an  angel  In  all  truth, 
I  am  positive  that  I  would  be  very  much  obliged  to  him 
and  I  think  I  can  speak  for  the  cat. 

This  may  seem  a  digression,  but  it  is  not.  It  is  merely 
an  example  I  have  used  to  throw  light  upon  my  statement 
that  all  boys  are  inclined  to  be  bad.  I  do  not  exclude 
myself.  I  remember,  very  distinctly,  that  it  was  with 
great  reluctance  my  family  persuaded  me  from  being  a 
gambler,  one  of  those  high-toned  fellows  with  black 
moustaches,  "  shiny  "  silk  hats,  and  a  flood  cf  diamond 
glory  for  shirt-front,  who  don't  get  up  until  3  p.m., 
and  who  always  smell  of  the  barber-shop.  If  I  am  not 
much  mistaken,  an  inability  to  manage  the  deep-black 
moustache  had  as  much  to  do  with  my  abstention  from 
this  particular  vocation  of  sin  as  all  the  moral  suasion 
and  theological  argument  brought  to  bear  upon  me. 

Pernicious  literature  is  a  great  deal  to  blame  for  this 
sudden  irruption  of  criminals,  and  for  their  having  any 
idea  of  cohesiveness.  We  all  remember  the  gentlemam 
who  was  flred  upon  twice  in  Mott  Haven  by  a  would-be 
murderer  but  sixteen  years  old.  It  was  about  a  year  and 
a  half  ago,  and  the  boy  is  in  jail  still  I  believe.  I  saw 
him  in  the  Tombs,  and  was  struck  then  with  the  hardness 
of  feature,  the  lack  of  remorse,  and  the  positive  glorifica- 
tion in  the  dastardly  deed  which  characterized  him. 
He  confessed  that  he  got  his  first  gory  ideas  from  one  of 
the  boys'  papers,  and  that  he  had  no  difficulty  in  sur- 
rounding himself  with  followers  once  he  had  mapped  out 
the  roseate  life  of  crime  they  were  to  lead,  and  had 
drawn  up  brass-bound  rules  and  regulations  that  should 
ensure  method  in  their  work, 

He  had  attempted  the  murder  because  he  wanted 
money  to  transport  his  school-boy  guerrillas  to  the 
boundless  plains  of  the  west,  for  it  was  there  the  blood- 
stained heroes  of  his  beloved  romances  had  flourished, 
and,  in  a  great  many  instances  died  with  their  boots  on; 
a  commendable  idea  in  case  it  should  so  happen  that 
Charon's  batteau  were  out  of  order,  and  a  fellow  had  to 
get  out  and  wade. 

This  gang  had  a  cave  resdezvous  most  ingeniously  and 
comfortably  arranged.  There  they  all  ate  roast  potatoes 
and  such  other  food  as  pirates,  road-agents,  highwaymen, 
"  moonshiners,"  and  ho  like  more  or  less  desirable  mem- 
bers of  society  get  their  fighting  courage  up  on,  and  there 
the  captain,  who  had  renounced  a  good  home,  and  sisters, 
cousins  and  aunts,  beyond  reproach,  slept  and  abided 
continually. 

That  was  an  isolated  case.  I  had  no  idea  then  of  the 
existence  of  coteries  of  young  thieves  who  ply  their 
trade  with  consummate  daring,  and  in  every  way  give  an 
imitation  in  little  of  those  desperate  burglars  and  sec- 
tional gangs  of  outlaws  ready  for  any  crime  with  which 
New  York  is  infested. 

But  these  youthfnl  coteries  do  exist  in  great  numbers. 
I  have  investigated  the  subject,  and  know  of  all  I  write. 


40 


GLIMPSES     OF     GOTHAM. 


The  frequency  of  the  appearance  of  their  members  in 
court  has  already  attracted  the  attention  of  our  magis- 
trates, while  the  students  of  political  economy  find  them- 
selves confronted  with  a  new  problem.  Those  who 
occupy  the  positions  of  leaders  are  naturally  bad  and 
have  generally  had  some  experience  in  the  House  of 
Refuge,  the  Catholic  Protectory,  and  like  institutions. 
They  use  argument  in  a  boy's  way,  and  so  bring  over  to 
their  banner  the  nice  little  lads  who  had  advanced  no 
further  in  a  wild  and  irregular  life  than  is  implied  in 
sleeping  awa3r  from  home  on  top  of  newspaper  boilers. 
This,  it  must  be  understood,  when  it  can  be  indulged  in,  is 
considered  a  very  nobby  thing  in  the  line  of  dissipation. 

The  dens  of  these  human  rats  are  difficult  to  find.  In 
the  summer  time  there  are  any  quantity  of  hiding  places 
arranged  under  the  wharves  where  stolen  articles  can  be 
secreted.  These  somewhat  Venetian  chambers  are  also 
used  as  places  of  refuge  from  the  police  who  interfere 
with  their  swimming  business.  But  in  weather  like  this 
it  is  generally  the  loft  of  a  stable,  or  the  cellar  of  some 
near  tenement,  that  is  selected  as  a  club-room.  Eight  in 
the  Five  Points  I  came  across  a  colony  who  had  bur- 
rowed in  the  side  of  a  cellar  excavation,  and  were  philo- 
sophically taking  all  chances  of  the  pavement  on  which 
people  were  constantly  walking,  caving  in  on  them.  They 
had  a  fire  and  had  made  the  place  habitable  by  carpet- 
ing it,  and  putting  up  planks  against  the  damp  earth.  I 
was  taken  there  by  a  bootblack  who  occupied  the  posi- 
tion of  courier  between  the  camp  and  the  outside  world. 
The  three  or  four  freckled,  bold  boys  I  saw  were  smoking 
clay  pipes  and  playing  cards.  In  the  innocence  of  my 
heart  I  attempted  to  guy  them,  and  asked  the  boy  with 
the  most  freckles  and  the  vilest  pipe  why,  since  civilize 
tion  had  been  given  up  apparently,  they  didn't  go  out  and 
fight  the  Indians. 

There  was  a  general  laugh  at  this,  and  then  I  learned 
by  continuing  the  conversation,  that  although  they  had 
no  desire  personally  to  abandon  New  York  for  such  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  ensanguined  plain  as  must  necessarily  attach 
to  getting  away  with  the  Utes,  the  Piutes,  Mince-Piuters, 
and  all  the  rest  of  them,  they  were  constantly  on  the  look- 
out for  thikrural  youth  who,  in  squads  of  two  or  three, 
were  almost  daily  appearing  at  our  ferries,  armed  with 
Mexican  horse-pistols  and  about  two  dollars  stolen  money 
each,  and  en  route  for  whatever  place  it  is  in  the  west 
where  they  kill  Indians. 

These  lads  become  the  prey  of  the  city  gangs.  They  (the 
New  Yorkers)  either  rob  them  in  an  easy,  confidence  way, 
or  they  fall  upon  them  in  true  buccaneer  style,  and  leave 
them  with  two  black  eyes  they  didn't  possess,  and  minus 
certain  property  they  did.  Perhaps  it  is  to  this  wise  war- 
ring of  the  gamins  that  the  Indians  owe  the  delay  in  their 
extermination  1 

The  markets  are  great  stamping  grounds  for  the  boy- 
thieves.  They  will  take  anything,  and  are  so  quick  and 
adroit  that  if  they  fail  to  escape  detection  they  are  toler- 
ably sure  to  avoid  arrest. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  catalogue  the  various  ingeni- 
ous ways  in  which  they  pilfer.  They  steal  clothing  from  the 
lines  upon  which  it  is  strung  out  to  dry;  they  levy  upon 
the  sample  display  of  grocers'  and  other  green  venders; 
they  pillage  from  the  market  basketof  the  staggering  red- 
faced  boarding-bone*  mistreat  m  i  Uc  laboriously  plods  to 
her  home;  they  fllch  parcels  from  the  coupes  and  car- 
riages of  Shopping  ladies;  they  arc  here,  there  and  every- 
where, Ubiquitous,  animated  not  so  much  by  the  copy- 
book aphorism  that  "  Honesty  is  (lie  best  policy,"  as  the 
more  serious  declaration  that  the  "  Lord  helps  those  who 
help  themselves." 

One  enterprising  youth,  but  twelve  years  old,  had  made 


for  himself  an  American  District  Telegi-api.  suit,  ov rather 
he  retained  one  that  he  had  had  while  in  the  employ  of. 
the  company.  His  plan  of  operation  was  to  go  into  a 
store,  or  broker's  office,  and  ask  them  if  they  had  nof 
rung  the  bell  for  a  messenger.  Then  on  his  way  out  he 
would  trust  to  chancs  opportunities  for  picking  up  little 
odds  and  ends,  and  in  not  a  few  instances  he  would  be  en- 
trusted with  a  parcel  by  some  ova  in  the  establishment 
who  thought  the  boy  might  as  well  be  utilized  while  he 
was  tbere.    The  career  of  this  lad  was  short-lived. 

Another  instance  which  I  observed  in  my  study  of  the 
situation  shows  how  desperate  the  little  villains  are  and 
how  they  arc  willing  to  run  all  sorts  of  romantic  risks 
after  the  manner  of  Claude  Duval,  and  "  Sixteen-Strin& 
Jack." 

A  good  little  office  boy  was  sent  to  the  post-office  for 
about  twenty  dollars  worth  of  stamps.  Three  of  our  in- 
fantile footpads  encountered  him  on  his  return  going 
through  Exchange  court,  and  without  more  ado  they 
went  through  him  to  the  extent  of  the  stamps.  It  is  not 
generally  known,  but  there  is  a  man  in  a  cellar  in  Nassau 
street  who  deals  in  postage  stamps,  only  American  ones, 
buying  them  at  a  discount  as  a  "fence"  takes  "swag." 
He  asks  no  questions.  The  people  who  bring  stamps  to 
him  are  generally  boys  a:id  young  clerks.  In  a  vast 
establishment  where  the  daily  correspondence  is  im- 
mense the  loss  of  five  or  evea  ten  dollars  worth  of  stamps 
in  a  few  days  is  scarcely  £»it  and  if  the  thief  sticks  to  the 
business  industrious'iy  the  ultimate  amount  of  the  em- 
bezzlement, at  the  time  of  detection  say,  is  sure  to  be 
large.  Our  young  friends  constantly  keep  applying  for 
positions  as  they  are  advertised,  each  band  being  sure  to 
possess  some  lad  of  innocent  face  and  quick  intelligence 
who  would  be  apt  to  strike  the  fancy  of  the  firm  in  ques- 
tion. Both  his  salary  and  his  stealings  are  supposed  to  be 
turned  into  the  common  purse. 

So  far  this  suddenly  discovered  and  growing  evil  has 
been  confined  to  such  conservative  lines  as  petit  larceny 
and  picayune  highway  robbery.  The  babies  have  not  yet 
undertaken  to  murder  people  as  they  have  in  Paris,where 
the  institution  of  boyish  banditti  has  long  flourished.  It 
was  only  a  few  weeks  ago  that  the  government  tried  some 
eight  or  ten  children,  the  ringleader  of  whom  was  but 
fourteen  years  old,  for  murdering  a  woman  who  kept  a 
baker-shop  in  one  of  the  Parisian  suburbs.  Only  two  did 
the  killing,  but  the  police  apprehended  the  whole  party. 
Their  constitution  and  by-laws  were  something  terrible. 
The  document  had  been  written  in  a  swaggering  way  and 
by  some  one  who  was  fond  of  gore.  Death  was  the  pen- 
alty for  everything  in  the  fault  line.  The  whole  trial  was 
intensely  sensational  and  developed  the  fact  that  the  first 
thought  of  the  club  was  engendered  by  reading  some  of 
the  criminal  stories  written  by  authors  like  Montepin  and 
Qaboriau. 

Very  irequently  an  adult  brain  guides  the  operations  of 
the  young  rascals.  I  am  speaking  now  of  New  York,  and 
I  base  my  remarks  on  what  Libby  O'Brien,  the  young 
queen  of  sneak  thieves,  told  me  herself  in  the  Mulberry 
Street  Station-House  one  morning  I  chanced  to  drop  in. 
She  said  that  a  certain  woman,  who  had  served  the  state 
on  several  occasions,  first  instructed  her  in  the  art  of  flit- 
ting through  buildings,  as  the  bee  does  from  rose  to  rose, 
but  with  less  honeyed  intentions. 

There  were  Ave  or  six  other  girls  in  this  hag's  employ. 
She  paid  them  so  much  a  week,  and  took  possession  of  all 
the  goods.  Libby,  however,  possesses  an  enterprising 
mind  of  her  own,  and  when  she  got  to  understand  the 
rudiments  of  her  calling,  she  saw  no  reason  why  she 
should  not  strike  out  for  herself ,  and  she  did  with  the 
most  lucrative  results. 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


41 


It  was  she,  also,  who  told  me  that  nearly  ail  the  little 
apple  and  orange  girls  who  make  daily  rounds  of  down- 
town offices  were  thieves.  The  girls  have  their  places  of 
meeting  as  well  as  the  boys,  are  quite  as  adroit  in  their 
peculations,  and  as  wicked  every  way.  I  write  out  Miss 
O'Brien's  statement  to  show  that  both  sexes  are  repre- 
sented in  this  army  of  "  infantry  "  that  is  marching  so 
steadily  to  the  jails  as  a  more  or  less  permanent  place  of 
residence. 

The  picture  that  I  have  drawn  is  not  a  cheerful  one.  It 
makes  one  shudder  to  think  that  such  things  are  possible 


in  a  city  like  New  York,  whose  educational  and  reform- 
ing facilities  are  so  ample.  That  it  will  be  looked  into  by 
philanthropists  who  make  such  matters  a  study,  I  have 
no  doubt. 

If  we  had  more  Shepherds  like  Mr.  Cowlev,  to  whose 
care  all  such  children  might  be  relegated,  there  would  be 
no  need  for  the  exercise  of  either  philanthropy  or  legisla- 
tion.   The  problem  would  solve  itself. 

How? 

The  dear,  good  man  would  starve  them  to  death. 


A    KEY    TO    MYSTERIOUS    DISAPPEARANCES. 


Some  years  ago  I  was  in  Philadelphia,  and  on  the  even- 
ing of  my  departure,  having  nothing  to  do  and  desiring 
to  kill  time  until  about  11  o'clock  when  it  would  be  in 
order  to  6tart  for  the  midnight  train  at  the  New  York 
depot,  I  went  into  a  variety  show  on  Chestnut  street. 

It  was  a  very  good  show,  but  only  a  most  infinitesimal 
bit  of  the  programme  has  to  do  with  this  article,  and  that 
was  where  two  song-and-dance  men  were  indulging  in 
gags  and  conundrums. 

Said  one  to  the  other— "Jimmy,  what's  a  grass  widow?" 

He  answered  promptly—"  A  woman  whose  husband  has 
gone  to  New  York." 

The  howl  of  applause  that  this  raised  seemed  to  indi- 
cate that  such  disappearances  were  not  uncommon  in  the 
matrimonial  annals  of  the  City  of  Brotherly  Love,  and  as 
long  as  I  staid  in  the  smoking-car  that  night  I  devoted 
my  time  to  wondering  whether  any  of  my  rather  glum 
fellow-passengers  had  been  making  grass  widows  by  the 
purchase  of  their  railroad  tickets. 

This  anecdote  came  to  me  the  other  day  as  I  was  read- 
ing about  the  Fricke  case,  it  leading  me  in  turn  to  a  re- 
flection upon  the  immense  number  of  missing  people  this 
city  is  capable  of  producing.  The  latter  sentence  seems 
rampant  with  a  "bull,"  for  in  the  majority  of  instances 
neither  the  city,  nor  the  city's  police  can  produce  the 
missing  people,  and  in  order  to  be  ultra-elegant  we  will 
say  that  New  York  affords  a  grander  field  for  mysterious 
disappearances  than  any  other  city  in  the  Union. 

You  can't  stay  lost  in  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  Wash- 
ington, Chicago,  St.  Louis,  New  Orleans  or  San  Fran- 
cisco. 

Here  the  potentiality  of  seclusion  is  unfathomable.  (1 
can  hear  my  readers  say,  "get  a  gun.") 

I  feel  quite  certain  that  men  like  "  Red  Leary"  so 
thoroughly  appreciate  this  fact  that  they  never  think 
about  visiting  foreign  climes  until  it  suits  their  own 
royal  convenience. 

According  to  one  of  the  sensational  accounts  published 
at  the  time  Tweed  used  to  calmly  sit  upon  the  porch  of 
his  villa,  back  of  the  Jersey  Highlands,  and  while  the 
hum  of  the  vast  metropolis  came  to  his  ears,  he  would 
read  the  circumstantial  accounts  of  his  escape,  and  see 
in  the  illustrated  journals,  faithful  pictorial  representa- 
tions of  how  he  stood  on  such  a  wharf,  muffled  to  the 
chin,  of  how  he  put  his  ponderosity  on  the  thwart  of  a 
small  boat,  which  placed  him  on  board  a  "  low,  rakish 
Khooner,"  etc.,  etc. 

The  missing  people  that  we  never  hear  of  are  in  the 
vast  majority.    The  poor  cannot  afford  to  advertise  or 


offer  rewards,  and  although  the  police  are  conscien- 
tiously supposed  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  all  reported 
cases,  still  it  is  undeniable  that  the  zest  with  which 
search  is  prosecuted  depends  in  a  great  measure  upon  the 
importance  of  the  missing  person. 

They  looked  for  Oakey  Hall.  We  all  looked  for  him.  I 
don't  recall  a  case  equal  to  his  in  the  amount  of  earnest 
enthusiasm  it  created. 

And  then  to  find  him  walking  in  a  London  park  with  a 
lady  who  wore  a  green  veil  and  had  a  mole  on  her 
neck. 

Mr.  Hall's  disappearance  was  much  like  that  of  Red- 
path,  the  Lyceum  manager.  He  walked  down  town  and 
that  was  the  last  of  him.  There  was  a  rumor  published 
that  he  turned  up  in  San  Francisco,  hut  I  never  saw  it 
verified. 

Mr.  Fricke's  case  is  certainly  a  very  queer  one,  both  as 
regards  the  gloom  shrouding,  at  this  writing,  a  portion  of 
the  time  he  was  missing  but  was  not  in  the  water,  and 
the  cool  manner  in  which  the  rest  of  the  family  look  upon 
the  eircumstance.  I  have  received  this  impression  that 
the  sons  consider  that  a  great  deal  of  fuss  is  being  made 
about  nothing. 

Many  of  these  missing  mysteries,  could  they  only  be 
fathomed,  would  furnish  a  strange  and  startling  pano- 
ramic display  of  New  York  life  and  death. 

Take  the  instance  of  a  well-to-do  merchant  from 
some  western  city  who  about  a  year  ago  left  his  up-town 
hotel  to  go  to  the  theatre,  and  turned  up  two  or  three 
weeks  after  at  the  Morgue. 

That  is  all  we  know— the  Alpha  and  Omega.  All  the  rest 
is  the  hardest  kind  of  Greek  to  us.  But  let  FaF.cy  take 
her  brush  and  paint  some  pictures,  not  many,  only  a  few 
that  will  answer  both  for  this  occasion  and  hundreds 
like  it. 

First  Picture— Broadway.  He  has  got  out  of  the  "  bus  " 
and  has  bought  a  cigar,  as  it  is  too  early  yet  to  go  to  the 
play.  So  he  saunters  along  leisurely,  smoking  his  fra- 
grant weed,  and  wondering  how  his  wife  is  getting  along 
at  home. 

Second  Picture— "  Nice  evening."  This  is  given  in  a 
silver  tone,  the  speaker  being  right  at  his  elbow.  He 
looks  down.  They  are  opposite  a  lamp-post,  and  he  sees 
such  a  pretty  face,  such  snapping  black  eyes,  such  rich, 
red  lips,  all  apparent  through  the  glamour  of  a  most  en- 
chanting smile.  While  this  observation  is  being  taken 
the  young  woman  has  put  her  kidded  hand  through  his 
arm,  repeating,  "  a  nice  evening."  It  is  a  nice  evening, 
and   the   merchant,   being   conscious  of  a  wicked  thrill. 


42 


GLIMPSES     OF    G  OTHAM. 


says,  "  Certainly  it  is,  and  a  nice  girl  too."'  She  smiles, 
and  squeezes  his  arm  just  a  little.  That  settles  it— he  is 
gone. 

Third  Picture— A  saloon  where  there  are  many  girls  like 
the  one  in  this  story,  sitting  about  at  the  tables,  some 
with  male  companions,  and  some  disconsolately  alone. 
Our  merchant  has  been  ordering  wine  and  showing  his 
money.  Just  as  the  waiter  draws  the  cork  of  a  fresh 
bottle  a  young  man  comes  in  from  the  street  and  saun- 
ters carelessly  along  between  the  tables  as  if  he  were 
looking  for  some  one.  So  he  is,  it  is  for  the  girl  with  the 
black  eyes  and  red  lips.  He  sees  her.  There  is  a  flash  of 
intelligence  between  them.  He  goes  out,  and  the  mer- 
chant tosses  oft  his  glass  and  unsteadily  refills  from  the 
bottle. 

Fourth  Picture— A  darkened  room.  There  is  a  noise.  It 
is  not  at  the  door.  Being  repeated  it  awakens  a  man  who 
is  in  the  bed.  He  is  alone,  and  seems  surprised  at  that 
fact.  He  is  more  surprised  when  a  gleam  of  light  comes 
throug  a  panel  that  has  been  slid  open  right  back  of  the 
chair  where  he  had  thrown  his  clothes.  And  still  more 
surprised  when  the  young  man  who  walked  into  the 
saloon  while  he  was  drinking  the  wine  that  had  befogged 
him,  comes  through  the  panel  and  proceeds  to  rifle  his 
pockets.  Our  merchant  springs  from  the  bed.  The  two 
men  grapple  and  reel  about  the  room,  while  the  pretty 
girl  the  merchant  met  on  Broadway  puts  down  the 
candle  she  had  been  holding  and  suddenly  disappears. 
Quicker  than  I  can  write  it  there  is  another  bully  on  the 
scene,  armed  with  a  black-jack.  He  watches  his  chance 
and  strikes  the  stranger  on  the  back  of  the  head,  felling 
him  like  an  ox. 

Fifth  Picture— After  the  completion  of  the  robbery  it  is 
suddenly  discovered  that  the  man  is  dead,  he  having 
already  been  stabbed  by  our  first  friend,  who  was  rapidly 
being  worsted,  when  the  other  scoundrel  came  to  com- 
plete the  job  with  the  skull-crushing  "  billy."  The  body 
is  stripped  and  old  clothes  put  upon  it.  Both  men  look 
out  at  the  night.  It  is  dark,  and  the  river  is  but  four 
short  blocks  away.  But  how  to  get  him  there.  The  girl 
speaks  up,  and  calls  attention  to  a  Ash-vendor's  acquaint- 
ance whose  stable  is  in  the  rear.  It  is  about  his  time  to  har- 
ness up  for  his  morning  trip  to  Peck  Slip.  He  will 
probably  loan  his  wagon  for  fifteen  minutes. 

Sixth  Picture— The  two  men  on  the  first  wagon  talk 
cheerily  to  each  other  as  they  rattle  towards  the  wharves, 
and  the  policemen  seeing  them  go  by  simply  falls  to 
speculating  upon  fish.  He  may  be  pondering  upon  the 
possibility  of  his  good  wife  having  some  nicely  broiled 
shad,  with  hot  rolls  and  fresh  butter,  and  good  coffee  for 
his  breakfast. 

Seventh  Picture— From  the  darkness  shrouding  the  end 
of  a  wharf,  so  littered  with  wood  and  old  refuse  iron, 
that  it  is  difficult  to  make  one's  way  upon  it,  comes  the 
sound  of  a  splash.  Then  there  is  silence,  and  presently, 
as  if  fashioned  out  of  the  gloom,  a  man  appears  at  the 
street  and  leaps  nimbly  into  a  fish-vendor's  wagon, which 
now,  that  the  work  is  over,  is  driven  somewhat  cir- 
cuitously  to  its  impatient  owner,  who  pockets  the  $5  bill, 
asks  no  questions,  and  starts  down  town  on  his  legiti- 
mate trade.  Before  he  puts  his  shining  piles  of  fish  in, 
however,  he  washes  the  wagon  out.  There  is  blood  upon 
the  bottom. 

Eighth  and  last  Picture— The  bloated,  disfigured,  swollen 
corpse  at  the  morgue.  It  is  the  merchant,  who,  on  that 
evening  he  started  from  the  hotel,  had  done  much  better 
had  he  resisted  black  eyes  and  red  lipsand  none  to  the  pin . 

Insane  people  have  a  constant  mania  for  eluding  their 
keepers  and  putting  their  relations  to  the  expense  of  ad- 
vertising them  minutely  in  the  newspapers. 


This  was  a  favorite  amusement  with  Dr.  Ayer,  the 
celebrated  pill  and  Cherry  Pectoral  millionaire,  who  for 
many  years  before  his  death  was  not  sound  in  his  head. 
He  would  make  his  way  to  New  York  somehow,  and  in 
some  instances  it  was  weeks  before  the  doctor  would  be 
discovered  in  a  more  or  less  dilapidated  condition,  but 
cheerful  and  happy. 

The  very  latest  case  of  disappearance  that  has  some 
thing  whimsical  about  it,  is  that  of  the  young  man  who 
applied  at  Jefferson  Market  to  be  locked  up  as  a  vagrant. 
At  the  same  time  he  was  worth  from  forty  to  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  and  his  lawyers  were  scouring  the  city  for 
him  to  pay  him  some  accrued  inierest.  While  thej-  were 
searching  he  was  working  hard  in  the  kitchen  of  the  jail 
manufacturing  soup,  an  operation  which  I  understand 
is  his  strongest  accomplishment. 

I  can  make  a  pretty  good  article  of  soup,  but  fifty 
thousand  dollars  is  a  little  beyond  me.  Still  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  good  soup  is  made  from  good  "  stock," 
and  fifty  vhousand  dollars  worth  is  a  fair  starter. 

Women  and  young  girls  of  an  hysterical  tendency  have 
a  great  mania  for  disappearing.  Examine  the  records  up 
at  Police  Headquarters  and  you  will  be  surprised  at  the 
number  of  straying  damsels  reported  by  their  agonized 
relatives.  Some  are  found,  some  come  home  and  are 
frequently  unable  to  state  where  they  have  been,  and 
others  never  turn  up  at  all. 

There  are  procuresses  in  this  city  who  are  as  active 
and  energetic  in  plying  their  nefarious  trade  as  any 
person  in  a  legitimate  line  of  business.  These  women, 
generally  middle-aged  and  prepossessing  in  appearance, 
are  always  well  dressed,  and  of  the  most  engaging 
manners. 

They  meet  a  pretty  girl  on  the  street,  in  one  of  the  big 
stores,  at  the  matinee,  or  where  you  will,  and  get  in  con- 
versation with  her.  She  is  flattered,  cajoled,  made  much 
of,  lied  to,  and  finally  persuaded  to  go  home  justfora 
moment  with  her  most  recent  friend. 

In  either  case  the  idea  is  to  get  her  compromised  in 
some  manner,  or  better  still  to  make  her  drunk.  The 
rest  is  very  easy,  and  she  becomes  one  of  the  "missing  " 
in  the  most  natural  manner  in  the  world.  1  am  not  ex- 
aggerating and  am  quite  aware  that  I  am  writing  of  New 
York  city,  and  in  the  nineteenth  century.  -There  are 
elegant  prison  pens  here  from  which  escape  is  impossi- 
ble, where  the  victims  of  procuresses  are  kept,  constant- 
ly assailed  by  temptation,  until  escape  is  no  longer  de- 
sired. It  has  been  but  a  little  over  two  months  since 
all  the  police  of  Liverpool  and  London  were  employed  in 
tracing  the  whereabouts  of  a  respectable,  highly  culti- 
vated, beautiful  young  Liverpool  girl,  who  left  her  home 
one  afternoon  to  pay  a  few  petty  tradesmen's  bills,  and 
to  make  several  calls.  She  took  a  short  cut  through  a 
disreputable  part  of  the  city  and  that  was  the  last  seen  or 
heard  of  her  until  she  was  discovered  in  London, 

At  the  request  of  her  family  her  story  was  never  made 
public,  but  the  community  was  given  to  understand  that 
it  was  horrible  in  the  extreme.  It  isn't  necessary  to  go 
among  Italian  or  Sicilian  mountain  fastnesses  in  order  to 
he  kidnapped.  It  can  be  done  to  perfection  in  any  of  the 
great  cities  of  civilizatiou. 

Crime  produces  many  missing  men.  The  bank-teller 
who  sees  that  the  jig  is  up,  the  receiver  who  has  mis- 
managed his  trust  and  doesn't  want  to  face  the  auditing 
Committee,  and  all  people  of  that  kidney,  drop  from  the 
surface  of  events  as  if  driven  under  by  ft  spile-driver. 
They   are   heard   from   eventually  in  Canada,  or  London, 

or  Brazil.    More  trouble  is  taken  ordinarily  to  find  this 

variety  of  the  "missing"  than  any  others.    The  great 
fault  with  them  is  that  they  don't  keep  quiet  in  their  re- 


GLIMPSES     OF    GOTHAM. 


43 


treats,  and  it  isn't  long  before  they  "  sail  the  ocean  blue" 
for  this,  their  native  land,  in  custody  of  special  detec- 
tives sent  after  them.  See  the  case  of  Cooper,  now  doing 
five  years  in  an  English  jail  for  forgery.  He  swindled 
the  United  States  Government  out  of  $50,000  by  forging  a 
paymaster's  name  to  a  lot  of  warrants,  served  five  years 
in  Cherry  Hill  prison,  Philadelphia,  for  that,  and  then, 
on  emerging  into  the  sunlight  of  liberty  settled  down  as 
a  stock  broker  in  San  Francisco. 

He  levanted  from  San  Francisco  with  quite  a  fortune 
realized  from  hypothecated  bonds,  and  became  a  "miss- 
ing man."  In  vain  the  police  scoured  this  and  other 
countries  for  him.  "Wherever  he  was  he  was  quiet  as  the 
grave.  But  it  couldn't  last.  The  active  brain  must  be 
employed,  the  forger's  pen  was  rusting.  A  new  career 
of  crime  was  inaugurated  in  London,  in  one  of  whose 
suburban  hamlets  Cooper  was  living  in  magnificent  style, 
He  is  a  rascal  of  the  romantic  type  and  used  disguises. 
The  inevitable  slip-up  came  at  last,  and  he  was  put  away 
lor  five  years,  with  San  Francisco  to  be  heard  from  then. 

Young  men  who  signify  their  intentions  of  getting  mar- 
ried frequently  astonish  everyone  and  mortify  the  bride 
terribly  by  never  putting  in  an  appearance  at  the  cere- 
mony, after  all  has  been  arranged,  minister  engaged, 
cards  for  a  wedding  breakfast  sent  out,  and  every  other 
detail  attended  to.  Sometimes  they  have  a  theory  for  such 
conduct,  but  more  frequently  they  can  give  no  explana- 
tion. Just  like  that  Mr.  Allan  of  Baltimore,  who  has  at 
last  come  home  to  bis  distressed  family  and  gone  to  bed. 


All  the  explanation  he  had  to  make  was  that  he  had 
been  overworked  and  felt  he  must  go  somewhere.  He 
got  as  far  as  New  Orleans,  Speaking  of  the  bridal  disap- 
pearances I  see  in  a  recent  newspaper  that  the  latest  one 
was  where  the  young  lady  lit  out  on  the  wings  of  the 
morning.  She  was  au  agricultural  damsel,  and  was 
wooed  and  won  by  a  steady  young  man  belonging  to  the 
same  Hudson  river  town.  When  the  wedding  day  ap- 
proached she  began  to  ponder  the  question  deeply. 
New  York  city  was  to  her  a  vast  lode-stone,  offering  a 
life  of  constant  gayety  and  sensation.  What  would  her 
brown-fisted  lover  offer?  A  farm-house,  with  all  its 
humdrum  duties,  such  as  feeding  the  pigs  and  chickens 
and  getting  the  cows  out  of  the  corn.  She  decided  not  to 
get  married,  but  to  visit  New  York  instead. 

When  the  police  found  her  she  was  selling  candy,  dis- 
pensing taffy,  in  a  Grand  street  confectionery  store  at  a 
salary  of  $5  a  week.  She  refused  to  go  home,  and  the 
gentle  farmer  will  have  to  look  elsewhere  for  a  gude 
wife. 

The  champion  missing  boy  is  undoubtedly  Charley 
Ross.  The  amount  of  being  missed  that  he  has  gone 
through  with  is  something  enormous.  No  one  can  equal 
him,  and  he  takes  the  belt. 

The  champion  missing  merchant  is  A.  T.  Stewart.    One 
would  naturally  think  that  when  a  man  was  dead,  and 
had  had  the  square  thing  done  by  him  in  the  way  of  a 
funeral,  he  would  remain  where  he  was  planted. 
I     But  not  so  with  A .  T.    He  also  takes  the  belt. 


GITY    CHARACTERS 


CITY    CHARACTERS. 


45 


THE    MM    ABOUT    TOWU. 


In  nearly  every  city  you  will  find  a  fair  representation 
of  what  they  call  the  gilded  youth  in  Pans,  bat  the 
variety  in  New  York  is  the  only  genuine  sample  of  the 
article  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

This  is  principally  because  New  York  is  more  like  Paris 
than  London,  where  the  stupid  "  Crutch  and  Toothpick" 
gang  are  supposed  to  represent  the  class  in  male  society 
whose  members  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  rise  at  noon, 
pass  through  a  perfumed  bath  to  the  barber,  and  so  to  the 
"  Eow,"  to  dinner,  to  the  theatre,  and  finally  to  Evans's 
supper  rooms,  or  some  faster  place,  where  the  night  is 
given  up  to  a  heavy  carouse. 

I  have  found  that  the  Parisian  sport  is  as  much  too 
light  as  the  English  swell  is  too  heavy.  One  drinks  sugar 
and  water  and  the  other  swills  port  when  champagne  is 
impossible.  The  drinks  are  therefore  fair  indications  of 
their  characters.  When  you  want  an  idler  with  snap,  a 
butterfly  with  some  virility,  you  must  come  to  New  York 
and  study  the  "  Young  Man  About  Town,"  whose  picture 
I  shall  proceed  to  give  in  a  few  free  strokes.        • 

He  is  entirely  different  from  what  he  used  to  be,  having 
progressed  with  the  city,  and  become  faster  and  faster  as 
the  rapid-transit  ideas  were  evoked.  In  1853  "Ik  Mar- 
vel "  wrote  of  him  as  follows  : 

"  With  his  fellows  he  will  affect  a  sporting  turn ;  ho  will 
read  the  Spirit  oj  the  Times,  he  will  have  a  sporting-jacket 
made  with  a  world  of  pockets,  and  will  sometimes  take 
it  with  him  on  a  trip  to  a  summer  watering  place;  but 
only  wears  it  occasionally  of  a  morning,  when  he  is  sure 
no  sportsmen  are  by;  he  will  stuff  a  pocket  with  pressed 
Regalias  and  regret  that  game  is  so  scarce.  He  discourses, 
too,  about  trout-fishing,  and  Alfred's  tackle,  very  much 
as  one  of  the  falsettos  in  the  papal  choir  might  talk  of 
deeds  of  gallantry." 

This,  you  see, is  a  sketch  of  a  mild-mannered  individual, 
fond  of  dress  and  adulation.  My  "  Man  About  Town  "  a 
fellow  of  enterprise,  whose  whole  object  is  to  keep  up  a 
perpetual  round  of  excitement  while  he's  awake,  and  to 
be  considered  a  regular  trump  by  the  actresses,  ballet 
girls,  and  the  ladies  who  think  that  half  a  world  is  better 
than  none,  whose  pictures  adorn  his  walls. 

He  has  rooms  down-town— that  is  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  theatres,  and  they  are  genuine  curiosity-shops.  In 
these  apartments  he  gives  dinners  to  his  lady  friends. 
They  are  more  frequently  midnight  suppers  that  last  until 
the  conservative  people  next  door  are  getting  ready  for 
breakfast. 

When  I  was  much  younger  than  I  am  now  I  was  roped 
into  taking  rooms  with  a  thorough  good  fellow  who 
aspired  to  be  considered  one  of  the  gilded  youth.  The 
apartments  were  in  a  club-house,  of  which  we  were  both 
pillars,  and  the  presence  in  the  basement  of  a  French  res- 
taurant, presided  over  by  a  gentleman  who  still  believed 
in  human  nature,  made  everything  pleasant. 

When  we  had  no  money  we  simply  signed  a  bit  of  paper 
and  the  Monsieur  jabbed  it  on  a  file.  Eventually  he  got 
two  cents  a  pound  for  them  at  a  place  in  Ann  street. 

But  this  is  wandering  from  what  I  intended  to  say, 
which  is  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  give  any 
better  idea  of  the"  Man  About  Town  "  when  he  is  at  home 
and  a  host  than  by  describing  a  supper  we  gave  to  a  party 


of  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  were  professionally  engaged 
at  the  time  in  an  East  side  variety  show. 

One  of  them  did  something  with  cannon  balls,  and  as  he 
was  way  down  on  the  bill— just  before  the  pantomime 
which  closed  it — our  table  was  spread  at  eleven  o'clock, 
and  at  half-past  eleven  we  were  discussing  the  soup. 

I  remember  how  lively  we  all  were,  and  yet  subdued,  as 
if  we  were  on  our  good  behavior.  A  female  clog-dancer 
ate  her  vermicelli  with  the  delicate  grace  of  a  queen,  and 
the  cannon  ball  man  seemed  scarcely  able  to  lift  his  glass. 

But  this  diffidence  all  wore  off  under  the  influence  of 
the  wines  and  stronger  liquors  of  which  we  had  an  abun- 
dant store,  and  when  we  had  been  two  hours  at  the  table, 
and  about  on  the  last  lap,  the  hilarity  was  plainly  notiae- 
able,  as  I  was  subsequently  informed,  at  the  next  corner. 

There  was  a  French  lady  present— one  who  stood  on  her 
toes  and  tried  to  kick  the  chandelier  while  dancing — and 
although  she  did  not  favor  us  with  any  Terpsichorean 
performances  of  that  nature,  she  consented  to  sing  some 
songs  of  La  Belle  France.  They  were  of  the  kind  you  hear 
at  the  Cafe  des  Ambassadeurs  in  the  Champs  Elyseex,  and  will 
not  be  found  as  specimens  of  poetry  in  the  French  text- 
books of  any  young  ladies'  college. 

At  least  I  hope  not. 

We  all  laughed  immensely,  and,  after  more  wine,  the 
French  girl's  brother,  a  contortionist,  did  a  lot  of  turning, 
twisting  and  tying  himself  into  knots  on  top  of  the  piano. 
That  also  was  very  amusing,  but  must  have  proved  rather' 
confusing  to  the  digestive  machinery,  which  was  con- 
stantly being  put  upside  down. 

The  contortionist,  however,  didn't  seem  to  mind  it,  and 
so  it  must  have  been  all  right. 

During  these  little  performances  my  friend  and  myself, 
in  duty  bound,  kept  the  conversation  up  to  fever  heat,  anxj 
finally  succeeded  in  inducing  the  young  women,  one  ol 
whom  had  brought  her  dog  along,  to  embark  upon  a  series 
of  more  or  less  scandalous  green-room  revelations,  the 
memory  of  which  makes  my  modest  ink  turn  red  as  a 
write. 

We  all  smoked  cigarettes.  The  French  dancer  taught  me 
how  to  roll  them  with  one  hand,  and  then,  after  two  or 
three  more  drinks,  began  to  cry— in  French— and  tell  me 
how  the  cannon  ball  man,  her  husband,  beat  her  and 
threw  her  about. 

He  utilized  her  as  a  Home  Gymnasium.  No  family 
should  be  without  one. 

But  it  was  all  sunshine  in  a  minute.  Down  on  the  floor 
were  the  "  Bouncing  Brothers  of  Barcelona,"  balancing 
each  other  on  their  chins  and  noses.  It  was  all  very 
well  until  one  of  the  "  Bouncing  Brothers  "  came  down 
with  a  rush  and  knocked  the  French  clock  on  the  mantle 
out  of  time. 

Then  we  concluded  that  a  little  piano  music  wouldn't 
be  a  bad  idea.  On  such  occasions  I  notice  that  the  com- 
pany invariably  become  maudlin.  We  certainly  did, 
singing  such  songs  as,  "  We  parted  by  the  river,  and  our 
dream  of  love  is  o'er,"  and  "  Under  the  willow  my  little 
one  sleeps." 

This  last  mournful  ballad  made  the  women  weep,  and 
while  they  were  at  it  the  men  tackled  the  brandy  decan- 
ter again. 


46 


CITY    CHARACTERS. 


So  the  night  wore  on. 
them  off. 


It  was  daybreak,  when  we  saw 


I  have  been  thus  particular  in  describing  the  otherwise 
insignificant  occasion  because  it  is  a  fair  sample  of  the 
"Man  about  Town  "  spending  his  nights.  It  was  anything 
to  kill  time  and  add  to  the  flash  reputation  he  seemed  so 
anxious  to  acquire. 

This  ambition  extended  to  his  clothes  which  were  al- 
ways a  little  different  in  cut  and  texture  from  other 
peoples,  and  to  his  hat*.  Luminous  neckties  helped  out 
the  idea. 

When  he  appeared  at  the  theatre,  young  men  just  start- 
ing in  the  life  of  the  city  would  say:  "  Who's  that?"  and 
be  told  that  that  was  the  famons  Harry  So-and-So,  or 
Willie  What's-his-Name.  Then  would  follow  a  minute 
description  of  his  rooms  and  a  glowing  account  of  the 
orgies  had  there. 


One  who  leads  an  exolusively  frivolous   life   cannot  |  of  cards. 


avoid  becoming  a  perfect  slave  to  the  habits  he  contracted 
so  easily. 

The  Goddess  of  Pleasure  becomes  a  Demon  of  Despair, 
a  haunting  Nemesis  who  cannot  be  driven  away. 

I  have  seen  my  "  Man  about  Town"  reduced  to  the 
verge  of  insanity  because  the  city  was  stupid  and  there 
was  nothing  on  hand  for  the  evening— no  leg  piece  at  the 
theatre,  no  body  to  capture  for  dinner,  nothing  to  go  see 
anywhere. 

He  never  thought  of  a  book,  a  pair  of  slippers,  a  softly 
shaded  lamp,  a  nice  cigar,  and — quiet. 

When,  on  an  occasion  like  the  one  referred  to,  I  have 
positively  refused  to  budge  out  of  the  house,  he  has  gone 
down  into  the  ca/t,  on  the  vague  chance  of  being  intro- 
duced to  some  French  girl,  and  remained  there  half  the 
night  drinking  bad  wiue  and  playing  with  a  greasy  pack 


THE    COIxIxEGE    STUDEHT. 


New  York  city  is  fortunately  not  a  college  town, 
although  we  possess  an  admirable  institution  in  "  Colum- 
bia," and  a  rather  useless  and  expensive  one  in  the  "Free 
College  I" 

And  I  am  very  glad  that  this  city,  in  which  I  have  the 
honor  and  felicity  to  reside,  is  not  an  Oxford,  Cambridge, 
Harvard  or  Princeton  on  a  grand  scale. 

Particularly  Princeton,  whose  riotous  students  you  em- 
balmed pictorially  last  week. 

The  reason  that  I  rest  serene  under  the  absence  of  col- 
leges is  because  I  consider  the  average  student  a  cad  of 
the  first  water,  and  a  prig  that  can't  be  excelled. 

Not  that  there  are  not  hosts  of  noble,  manly  fellows  in 
college.  There  are  hundreds  of  them.  But  I  maintain  all 
the  same  that  the  typical  student,  the  one  who  obtrudes 
himself  into  notice,  and  is  therefore  the  character  I  am 
sketching,  is  generally  a  young  man  with  a  fuzzy  mus- 
tache, an  impudent  manner,  and  a  most  objectionable 
person  altogether. 

I  never  run  across  him  without  wishing  to  sprinkle  him 
with  salt,  or  have  him  soused  in  a  surf  bath. 

No  wonder  they  call  a  part  of  the  students  "  Fresh- 
men !"    Most  of  them  are  fresher  than  the  unborn  egg. 

The  constant  presence  in  New  York  of  the  college 
student,  and  especially  his  very  extensive  appearance 
about  the  May  commencement  days,  make  him  a  fit  sitter 
before  our  metropolitan  camera. 

He  is  generally  a  very  loud-talking  young  man,  who 
would  have  you  believe  that  he  leads  an  awfully  fast  and 
rakish  sort  of  life  on  the  sly— a  rose-colored  existence  of 
which  the  faculty  do  not  dream. 

His  dress  Is  inclined  to  be  nobby,  and  in  general  deport- 
ment, when  strolling  through  the  city,  he  may  be  likened 
to  a  curb-stone  broker  at  a  dog-fight  in  a  stable  loft. 

The  cane  he  carries  is  a  veritablo  club,  and  is  exten- 
sively used,  according  to  the  student,  in  midnight  en- 
counters with  policemen  and  hack-drivers. 

ThflM  classes  of  society  the  student  seems  to  be  slowly 
but    urclj  removing  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Where  fam  or  a  dozen  of  the  young  men  are  out  on  a  lark 
together  they  certainly  do  make  Borne  howl.    About  mid- 


night they  are  full  of  beer  up  to  their  downy  chins,  and 
then  they  begin  to  yell,  and  sing  college  songs,  and  'Rah  I 
'Rah  !  'Rah  !  which  is  an  intellectual  whoop,  much  in- 
dulged in  at  boat  races  and  the  like  gatherings. 

They  get  arrested,  of  course,  and  locked  up,  but  are 
generally  let  off  with  a  light  fine  and  a  reprimand  on  ac- 
count of  their  youth,  and  the  necessity  that  exists  for 
their  getting  back  to  class. 

I  have  seen  these  young  men,  who  by  their  very  posi- 
tion are  supposed  to  be  gentlemen,  link  arms  until  they 
have  covered  the  entire  pavement,  and  then  march  up 
Broadway  singing  one  of  their  idiotic  songs  and  crowding 
ladies  and  gentlemen  into  the  gutter. 

"  Oh,  they  are  only  students  having  some  fun,"  is  what 
is  charitably  said. 
I  call  them  blackguards  making  asses  of  themselves. 
They  are  alwaye  offensive  when  there  are  a  number  of 
them  together,  the  object  being  to  have  what  they  call  a 
good  time. 

When  the  Count  Joannes  was  disporting  himself  at  the 
Lyceum  Theatre  I  remember  that  whole  rows  of  seats 
were  taken  by  college  boys,  who  behaved  in  the  most 
scandalous  manner.  They  were  arrested  eventually  for 
even  excelling  the  gallery  in  buffoonery  and  obscenity. 

We  all  know  what  the  Princeton  pets  are  when  they  get 
to  sampling  Trenton  beer. 

What  is  the  secret  of  all  this?  Why  shouldn't  college 
boys  behave  like  gentlemen  when  they  are  outside  the 
walls  and  away  from  their  campus?  It  is  a  mystery.  I 
only  know  that  they  are  nearly  always  impudent,  boor- 
ish and  infernal  nuisances  generally. 

If  ever  I  leave  anything  to  a  college,  it  will  bo  a  fund  to 
establish  a  department  in  which  deportment  shall  be 
taught.  It  might  have  some  effect  in  lessening  the  num- 
ber of  these  well-dressed  Zulus. 

I  sometimes  think  that  the  hazing  practice,  and  the 
system  of  making  the  younger  students  "  fag"  for  the 
others  have  something  to  do  with  producing  a  rode  of 
manners  that  would  disgrace  a  Comanche  village. 

nave  you  ever  been  in  a  small  town  where  delegations 
from  a  dozen  colleges  have  come  to  witness  a  boat  race? 


CITY    CHARACTERS. 


J7 

you  can  rest  assured  that  some  college  student  has  been 
given  an  assignment 

My  observation  induces  me  to  believe  that  the  medical 
students  are  the  best  fellows  of  the  entire  kidney.  They 
are  manlier,  and  don't  have  bo  much  blank  nonsense 
about  them. 

I  shall  never  forget  one  time  in  Philadelphia,  ever  so 
many  years  ago,  when  at  his  earnest  invitation,  I  visited 
a  young  medical  friend  in  the  dissecting-room. 

A  lot  of  jolly  dogs  were  carving  and  cutting  another  lot 
of  perhaps  jollier  dogs  who  were  dead.  They  were  drink- 
ing beer  and  eating  crackers  and  cheese  at  the  same  time, 
i.  e.,  the  live  jolly  dogs  were. 

"  Come  here,  Lynx,''  said  my  friend,  "  here's  a  beauti- 
ful subject.  I  already  owned  the  left  leg  and  head,  and 
I've  just  won  the  entire  'stiff'  at  dominoes.  Come  and 
see  me  touch  up  some  of  the  abdominal  muscles." 

It  was  a  terrible  ordeal,  but  I  looked  on.  Nature  has  its 
limit  of  endurance,  however.  Even  a  Lynx  will  some- 
times weaken. 

When  my  Esculapian  friend,  who  was  wild  with  en- 
thusiasm, turned  to  me  and  said:  "Here,  colonel,  just 
grab  that  flap,  won't  you  ?"  I  knew  that  it  was  time  to 
go. 

I  felt  sure  of  it,  and  I  did  go.  How  I  reached  the  street 
I  never  knew,  but  I  know  that  about  a  half  hour  after- 
wards a  very  pale  gentleman,  holding  his  handkerchief 
to  his  mouth,  went  into  a  corner  saloon  and  asked  feebly 
for  brandy. 

This  experience,  of  course,  was  long  anterior  to  my  be- 
coming familiar  with  the  field  of  carnage. 

P.  S.— None  of  my  remarks  with  reference  to  drinkinj? 
and  midnight  carousals  apply  to  Divinity  students.  They 
generally  keep  a  bottle  in  the  closet. 


If  you  haven't,  gentle  reader,  do  a  kindness  to  your 
nerves  by  never  going,  and  proceed  to  the  .'one  and  silent 
tomb  ignorant  of  the  experiment,  satisfied  with  my  state- 
ment that  at  2  x.  x.  in  the  morning  after  the  race,  such  a 
town  is  as  fair  a  sample  of  the  Fourth  Ward  of  Hell,  if 
there  is  such  a  place,  as  you  can  well  imagine. 

And  yet  these  frisky  young  people  are  those  who  are 
expected  to  be  prominent  in  all  the  intellectual  walks  of 
life.  Undoubtedly  the  colleges  turn  out  some  of  our  best 
men.  I  am  not  regarding  them  now  as  having  arrived 
at  years  of  discretion.  It  is  the  student  in  the  callow, 
vealy  state  that  we  are  digesting,  and  like  all  "bob" 
veal  he  is  hard  to  digest. 

On  commencement  day  he  is  particularly  grand.  His 
Sisters,  cousins,  etc.,  send  him  an  express  wagonload  of 
flowers,  and  with  one  hand  in  his  bosom,  and  the  other 
waveu  toward  the  chandelier  he  tells  us  how  the  ancient 
Roman  lived,  and  what  was  really  the  cause,  as  ascer- 
tained by  him,  of  their  decay. 

That  night  he  gets  drunk,  very  drunk,  disgracefully 
drunk,  and  generally  manages  to  float  around  the  city  in 
a  dress  coat  and  a  pair  of  white  kids  for  about  a  week. 

Then  he  sobers  up  and  selects  his  pursuit  in  life. 

There  is  always  a  certain  proportion  of  the  young  gen- 
tlemen who  feel  sure  that  they  are  born  journalists. 
They  see  the  difficulties  under  which  the  country  is  stag- 
gering and  they  are  convinced  an  editorial  from  them 
would  fix  things  all  right. 

This  class  iuvade  Park  Row  and  Printing  House  Square. 
The  Tribune  is  never  without  a  utility  force  of  twenty  of 
them. 

When  you  read  that  "  the  empyream  was  lit  up  last 
night  by  vast  masses  of  corruscating  splendor,"  which  is 
the  beginning  of  an  article  on  the  burning  of  a  car  stable, 


THE    COACHMAU. 


When  I  first  came  to  New  York  in  the  early  part  of  this 
century,  and  strode  up  Broadway  with  the  usual  shilling 
In  my  pocket  with  which  all  great  men  begin  life.  I  par- 
ticularly admired  the  sleek  and  comfortable  coachmen 
whom  I  saw  sitting  en  the  boxes  of  their  carriages. 

This  admiration  was  purely  a  physical  one,  and  was 
closely  connected  with  a  period  of  starvation,  which  I 
foresaw  must  befall  me  when  that  shilling  was  gone. 

I  was  not  disappointed.  As  near  as  1  can  remember  the 
shilling  accomplished  the  possession  of  two  or  three  mut- 
ton pies,  and  then  evanesced.  When  hunger  really  did 
attack  my  adolescent  vitals,  these  well-fed  Jehus  excited 
my  admiration  more  than  ever,  and,  as  I  gazed  upon  their 
fat  chops  and  swelling  paunches,  I  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  softest,  cosiest  berth  in  all  this  world  of 
work  was  that  of  a  liveried  coachman  to  a  swell  New 
York  family. 

Don't  misunderstand  me;  I  do  not  allude  to  any  seedy, 
bloated  night  hawk  cabdriver,  but  to  the  blue-coated,  and 
brass-buttoned,  snuff-colored  and  gold-laced  gentlemen  of 
the  whip,  who  wear  corduroys  disappearing  in  boots 
with  buff  tops,  and  whose  shining  silk  hats  have  pin- 
wheel  rosette  at  their  sides. 

They  toil  not,  and  I  am  sure  they  have  no  acquaintance 
with  the  first  principles  of  mule  spinning,  despite  their 


knowledge  of  horses,  but  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  never 
had  to  get  up  like  one  of  these. 

If  he  did,  if  the  old  gentleman  of  Mormon  proclivities 
ever  turned  out  with  a  long  blue  coat  with  brass  buttons 
and  a  whip,  both  profane  and  sacred  history  have  failed 
to  record  the  fact. 

In  those  distant  days  to  which  I  first  alluded,  the  city 
coachman  was  not  looked  upon  as  one  of  the  family.  He 
was  to  all  intents  and  purposes, a  servant,and  when  he  was 
not  in  the  stable  you  could  find  him  in  the  kitchen.  The 
cock  and  he  generally  fell  in  love  and  married, although  he 
was  not  averse  to  forming  a  matrimonial  alliance  with  the 
chambermaid,  if  he  ascertained  that  she  had  some  sav- 
ings in  the  bank.  His  life  was  a  perfectly  blameless  one, 
and  was  not  disturbed  by  any  romantic  fancies. 

But  how  is  it  now  ?  If  we  may  believe  the  stories  fur- 
nished us  by  the  newspapers  of  the  country,  the  coach- 
man of  the  period  is  marrying  the  young  lady  of  the 
epoch  at  a  most  remarkable  rate.  It  has  ceased,  in  fact, 
to  become  a  matter  of  surprise,  and  those  fond  papas  who 
do  not  want  their  daughters  disposed  of  in  thisway.either 
secure  a  Milesian  with  red  hair,  scrub  nose, freckled  wife 
and  seven  children, or  give  up  keeping  a  stable  altogether. 

So  when  I  read  of  a  dashing  whip  eloping  with  some 
languishing  blonde  or  sparkling  brunette,  in  true  New 


48 


CITY    CHARACTERS. 


York  Ledger  style,  my  admiration  for  the  craft  becomes 
all  the  stronger. 

They  demonstrate  that  like  all  other  driving  fellows 
they  know  how  to  get  along  in  the  world. 

It  has  never  been  ascertained  why  maidens  of  high  de- 
gree look  so  kindly  upon  the  men  of  horses.  This  is  a 
deep  social  problem  which  I  mean  to  study  out  ono  of 
these  days. 

You  never 'hear  of  them'  falling  in  love  with  the 
gardener,  or  the  man  who  makes  the  fires,  but  it  is  al- 
ways the  coachman,  and  sometimes  a  negro  coachman, 
too,  who  kindles  the  flame  of  love  in  their  hearts.  I  have 
an  idea  that  the  liveried  heroes  give  them  an  inordinate 
amount  of  "taffy,"  telling  them  perhaps  of  their  good 
family  and  how  misfortune  has  made  it  necessary  for 
them  to  give  up  their  own  four-in-hand  and  handle  the 
reins  for  some  one  else. 

You  get  a  good-looking  young  fellow,  neat  and  cleanly 
shaven,  pouring  this  sort  of  thing  into  the  pink  sea-shell 
ear  of  Julia  as  he  drives  her  slowly  through  the  park,  and 
the  consequences  are  nearly  always  amatory.  He  is  like 
Vice  in  the  couplet.  She  first  endures,  then  pities,  and 
then  embraces. 

No  one  can  blame  him  for  giving  up  the  halter  for  the 
altar,  the  bridle  existence  for  the  bridal  tour.  He  has 
nothing  to  lose  and  everything  to  gain  going  in  double 
harness.  If  the  old  man  relents,  he  becomes  a  happy 
groom ;  if  the  old  man  holds  out  he  is  no  better  or  worse 
off  than  a  young  man  ought  to  be  with  a  pretty  wife. 

When  she  becomes  a  little  sulky  he  can  console  himself 
by  the  reflection  that  it's  his  phaeton,  and  that  no  man 
gets  through  matrimonial  life  without  hitches. 

Since  fifty  years  ago  the  coachman  has  become  more 
important  in  another  respect.  You  can't  shoot  him  now 
with  impunity.  The  case  of  the  bank  teller  at  Montclair 
is  proof  of  this.  The  Grand  Jury  have  found  a  true  bill 
against  him,  and  he  will  have  to  stand  a  trial  for  murder 
in  that  most  uncomfortable  state  under  such  circum 
stances— New  Jersey. 

Every  man  has  his  trials,  but  if  ever  I  have  one  for 


murder,  I  pray  that  my  man  will  bo  sensiblo  enough  to 
live,  up  to  the  moment  of  the  tragedy,  in  some  state  where 
you  stand  a  reasonable  chance  of  acquittal.  That  reminds 
me  that  you  very  seldom  hear  of  a  coachman  committing 
a  murder.  Farm  hands,  hostlers,  and  gentlemen  of  that 
kidney  figure  in  the  annals  of  crimson  crime,  but  it  is  not 
often  that  the  net  of  Justice  catches  the  hero  of  this 
sketch,  I  lay  it  to  his  peaceful,  placid  life,  and  the  moral 
rumination  ho  has  a  chance  to  indulge  in  while  waiting, 
stiff  as  a  plaster-of-Paris  image,  upon  his  box  for  his 
people  to  come  out  of  Stewart's,  or  Grace  Church,  as  the 
case  may  be. 

Some  coachmen  never  leave  the  box,  or  move,  or  wink 
while  they  are  on  it.  But  I  don't  like  them.  I  prefer  the 
more  sociable  fellows  who  get  down  to  stretch  their  legs 
once  in  a  while,  and  who  disappear  in  the  corner  tavern 
for  a  nip  to  keep  out  the  cold.  These  jolly  dogs  will  get 
together  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  street  and  swap  stories. 
They  know  all  about  Mrs.  A.'s  sudden  departure  for 
Europe,  and  why  she  went,  and  can  tell  you  the  cause  of 
Mr.  B.  having  to  do  away  with  his  own  establishment  and 
hire  a  coupe  by  the  month  from  the  coachman. 

If  ever  I  start  a  scandalous  paper  in  which  the  secrets 
of  society  shall  bo  dressed  up  like  important  cable  news 
I  am  going  to  rnako  friends  with  all  the  coachmen.  They 
are  absorbents  of  family  secrets,  and  what  they  don't 
know  they  can  readily  obtain  from  the  cook  or  the  up- 
stairs maid. 

In  nearly  all  the  prominent  divorce  suits,  both  in  this 
country  and  abroad,  the  coachman  has  played  an  impor-v 
tant  part  as  witness.  It  has  been  he  who  has  too  fre-  • 
quently  driven  madame  along  the  road  of  ruin,  and  his 
story  has  always  been  interesting.  Of  what  good  is  a . 
close  carriage  if  the  coachman  is  communicative!  Some 
high-toned  ladies  have  found  this  out  when  it  was  too  late. 

In  this  city  the  coachman  has  his  club,  his  mutual  pro- 
tective association,  and  his  annual  dance.  In  summer  he 
is  at  the  watering  places.  lie  is  always  well-housed,  well- 
dressed,  well-fed,  and,  whether  he  marries  the  cook  or 
his  young  mistress,  he  Li  a  lucky  dog. 


THE    BARBER. 


He  may  be  a  Rooshian,  or  a  Frenchman,  or  a  Prooshian 
and  he  very  frequently  is  an  I-tal-ian,  but  it's  greatly  to 
the  credit  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  that  you  very  rarely 
find  him  an  American.  My  particular,  personal  barber  is 
a  German.  His  name  is  Gohr.  Appropriate  name  I  If 
you  don't  believe  me,  go  and  hire  him  to  shave  you. 

Not  being  a  blood-thirsty  Lynx, I  hate  Gohr.  But,  loathe 
him  as  I  may,  I  may  not  leave  him.  In  a  moment  of  fatal 
weakness  I  bought  a  shaving  cup  from  him,  and  became 
his  vassal.  It  stands  on  the  third  shelf,  second  box 
from  t!io  glass.  My  name  is  on  it,  Lynx  in  the  chain  of 
my  serfdom  which  I  long  to  break,  but  dare  not. 

WhyT 

Whisper  I  There  Is  a  sausage  shop  next  door,  and  I  have 
not  forgotten  Sweeny  Todd  I 

I  once  tried  tho  experiment.  I  had  been  spending  the 
night  with  u  friend  in  the  gin  trade,  and  felt  courageous. 
Didn't  caro  n  schiedam  for  any  barber  in  fact.  lie  was 
whetting  his  razor  as  if  it  had  been  a  broadaxo  when  I  re- 
marked : 


"  I  say,  Gohr." 

"  Yes,  sir;  say  away." 

"  I've  been  thinking  of  leaving  you." 

"  Of  what,  sir?" 

There  was  tho  gleam  of  roused  ferocity  in  his  eye.  My 
heart  began  to  crawl  towards  my  boots,  and  I  wished  I 
had  taken  another  of  those  sclnedams  before  I  came  down 
town. 

"  I  am  going  to  move  out  of  town." 

"  Where  to,  sir?" 

"  Oh,  only  to  Newark.  But  still,  you  see,  I  won't  be 
able " 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,  sir.  Now  that  tho  elevated  road  is 
running,  all  you  have  to  do  is  jump  into  a  car,  and  here 
j  on  are;  and  a  pleasant  ride  into  the  bargain.  Don't  you 
see?" 

The  sunlight  flashed  on  his  razor  blado,  and  his  fingers 
dabbled  the  lather  on  my  neck  right  over  the  carotid.  I 
couldn't  help  seeing,  under  the  circumstances,  and  all  I 
could  say  was: 


CITY     CHARACTERS. 


4!) 


"  I  never  thought  of  that,  to  be  sure." 

If  I  had  only  said  Chicago  now,  or  San  Francisco  I  But 
then  he  -would  probably  have  objected  to  my  leaving  town 
at  all.  Anyhaw,  the  attempt  was  a  failure.  And  worse 
than  that  he  Tnade  me  buy  seven  dollars' worth  of  hair 
tonic,  cosmetiques  and  the  like,  on  the  plea  that  I  would 
need  them  on  Sundays  when  1  couldn't  come  to  town.  I 
gave  them  to  an  Italian  bootblack  at  the  next  corner.  I 
fancy  he  imagined  that  the  cosmetique  was  candy,  for  he 
was  eating  it  when  I  saw  him  last. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that,  because  I  am  now  the 
hand-slave,  so  to  speak,  of  Gohr  and  of  the  cup,  that  he  is 
the  only  barber  I  have  met  in  my  wanderings.  My  ex- 
perience has  been  an  extensive  one,  as  my  scars  will  tes- 
tify. I  have  been  flayed  by  so  many  nationalities  that, 
to  use  a  vulgarism,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  business  of  dcpilitation  is  a  universal  skin.  I  only 
need  to  be  scalped  now  to  have  my  practical  knowledge 
of  the  barberous  craft  complete. 

This  suggests  a  theory.  It  is  asserted  that  the  gentle 
savages,  who  are  now  keeping  our  troops  busy  being 
killed  among  the  Colorado  hills  are  led  by  numerous 
renegades,  whose  deadly  ferocity  can  only  take  its  rise 
out  of  some  great  real  or  fancied  wrongs.  May  they  not 
be  barbers,  ruined  by  the  five-cent-shave  movement,  and 
maddened  by  deep  draughts  of  bay  rum,  which  customere 
have  refused  to  be  lured  into  paying  extra  for?  It  would 
not  be  a  bad  idea  to  catch  one  and  vivisect  him.  The 
mysteries  of  the  barber's  mind  might  then  be  solved. 

We  might  learn  then  why  he  always  insists  upon  talking 
when  you  want  to  ruminate,  and  why  he  never,  by  any 
chance,  talks  the  commonest  kind  of  sense.  We  might 
also  find  out  why  his  breath  so  invariably  smells  of  Hun- 
ter's Point,  thinly  disguised  with  Florida  water  or  hair 
oil.  We  might  ascertain,  too,  why  he  is  always  eating 
suspicious  lunches  when  you  are  in  a  hurry,  and  why  he 
always  licks  his  fingers,  wipes  them  on  his  hair  and  then 
oommences  to  rub  the  lather  into  your  jaw  with  them. 
The  minor  facts  that  he  always  shaves  you  so  close  that 
you  suffer  from  a  rash,  that  he  blinds  you  with  bay  rum, 
pomades  you  till  you  reek  like  a  candle  factory,  and  in- 
variably crops  your  hair  when  you  only  want  it  to  be 
trimmed,  are  explicable  on  the  grounds  of  a  naturally  ma- 
lignant spirit.  But  why  does  he  always  try  to  sell  you 
bill-board  tickets  when  he  knows  you  wouldn't  go  to  ths 
theatre  if  you  had  a  box,  and  why  is  he  such  an  infernal 
liar? 

Tour  hair  may  be  as  black  as  a  raven's  wing  or  the 
record  of  a  Tammany  politician,  and  anchored  to  your 
scalp  like  a  Brooklyn  bridge  tower,  but  he  will  swear  to 
you  that  it  is  turning  white  at  a  six-days-go-as-you-please 
gait,  and  commencing  to  fall  out  by  the  peck-  Offer  to 
let  him  lift  you  out  of  the  chair  by  it  and  he  will  only 
smile  sadly  and  shake  his  head,  as  if  to  sa3\  "  Poor,  be 
sotted  soul  !  You'll  find  out  different  in  the  course  of  fifty 
years  or  so." 

It  is  a  significant  fact  that  you  always  find  a  barber 
shaves  himself.  He  knows  too  much  to  let  anybody  else 
do  it  for  him.  I  was  acquainted  with  one  barber  who 
always  used  to  gash  me  at  a  certain  spot  on  my  left  cheek. 
I  noticed  that  everybody  else  who  came  under  his  razor 
suffered  the  same  disfigurement.  One  day  chance  ex- 
plained it  to  me.  I  saw  him  shaving  himself.  There  was 
a  mol«  on  his  left  cheek  which  he  cut  every  time  he 
reaped  himself.  The  gashes  he  dispensed  to  us  were  in 
retaliation. 

It  was  this  barber  who  used  to  shave  the  bald-headed 
man.  That  personage  wis  a  stout,  elderly  gentleman, 
who  had  no  more  hair  on  his  head  than  could  be  dis 
covered  with  a  microscope  on   a   cobblestone.    Yet,    the 


barber  had  persuaded  him  that  by  having  his  head  shaved 
regularly  he  could  produce  a  fresh  growth  fiat  would  be 
a  credit  to  a  Circassian  girl.  He  would  come  in  of  a  hot 
afternoon,  sink  into  a  chair  with  a  grunt  and  go  to  sleep. 
Then  the  barber  would  lather  his  head  with  great  sym- 
metry and  care,  go  over  it  once  with  the  back  of  his  razor 
and  charge  him  a  quarter  for  the  job. 

;  I  once  went  into  a  barber  shop  in  Bleecker  street  to  get 
shaved.    It  was  a  barber  shop  of  the  African  persuasion, 

I  do  ;vn  six  steps  in  a  cellar  that  smelled  of  mould.  A  thin 
growth  of  fungus  clung  to  the  ceiling,  and  the  walls  were 
clammy  with  a  faint  greenish  slime.    A  back  door  which 

i  seemed  to  open  on  the  bottomless  pit  permitted  a  eircula- 

'  tion  of  air  that  would  have  made  an  Exquimaux  shudder. 

1  On  the  walls  were  portraits  of  Hicks,  the  pirate,  and 
other  celebrities.    There  was  a  rickety  stand  with  two 

'  mirrors  and  a  lot  of  cups  labelled  "Friendship's  Gift," 

!  "  When  This  You  See,  Remember  Me,"  "  Forget  Me  Not," 

I  and  the  like.  I  shall  never  forget  them.  I  never  saw 
dirtier  china  in  my  life. 

I  The  barber  was  a  mulatto  with  a  squint.  He  chewed 
tobacco  copiously,  with  a  noise  like  a  cow  munching  hay. 
He  jammed  me  down  in  a  chair,  shoved  my  head  so  far 
back  or.  the  rest  that  I  felt  my  windpipe  splitting  across, 
and  draped  my  manly  bosom  with  a  towel  which  looked 
as  if  he  bad  been  using  it  as  a  handkerchief.  Then  he  be- 
gan to  talk  to  hi3  assistant,  who  was  snipping  pieces  from 
the  ear  of  a  victim  who  wanted  his  hair  cut.    The  victim, 

;  happily  for  himself,  was  drunk.  He  took  his  wounds  for 
mosquito  bites,  and  every  time  a  fragment  of  his  person 
joined  the  ensanguined  heap  on  the  floor  he  would  slap  his 
bleeding  face  and  grunt: 

:  "  Umph  !  Damn  them  skeeters  !  Hurry  up,  boss,  or 
they  won't  leave  enough  of  me  to  swear  by." 

'      I  was  about  to  suggest  decapitation  as  the  shortest  cut 
to  the  end  the  assistant  was  drawing  at,  when  my  turn 
came.  The  barber  made  a  sweep  over  my  face  that  almost 
pulled  my  backbone  out,  and  asked: 
"  How  you  like  de  razor,  boss?" 
"  Good  enough,"  I  said;  "  only  hurry  up." 
"It  ort  to  be  good  anyways,"  said  the  barber,  shaving  a 
sandwich  off  my  other  cheek.    "  It  am  de  boss  razor, 
shuah." 
"Indeed  1" 

,  "Yes,  sah.  I  don't  want  no  better  razor  dan  dis  yer  one, 
I  done  tell  yer  now.    Yer  see  dat  speck  dar,  boss?" 

I     The  speck  was  a  red  rust  smear  that  made  my  blood  run 

:  cold. 

"  Well,  sah,  dat  war  Jim  Jonsing.    He'm  dead  now.  An' 

[  yer  see  dat  one?" 

]*  I  did. 

"  Dat  war  Sam  Smiff.    Julius !  wha'  de  debbil  ebber 
come  ob  Sam  Smiff?" 
"  He'm  round  yit,  walkin'  on  crutches." 

J     My  barber  chuckled  in  demoniac  glee.    "  Dey  ginerally 

I  does  want  crutches  or  coffins,"  he  said.  "  Well,  sah,  dis 
yer  nick  here  war  Jim  Peters.    I  done  tole  him:  'Jim,' 

,  says  I,  'yer  luff  dat  gal  lone  or  I  cut  youah  heart  out.' 

j  '  Yer  cut  nuffln,'  he  says.    '  Drap  dat  razor,  or  I  bricks 

I  youah  brain3  out !'    Dat  war  'nuff  fo'  me,  sah.    I  gin  him 

I  one  gash,  an' " 

I     A  howl  of  anguish  interrupted  the  thrilling  recital. 

!  Julius  had  become  so  interested  in  the  narrative  that  he 
had  commenced  to  cut  the  inebriated  customer's  nose  off. 
When  I  gained  the  street  my  barber  and  his  assistant 
were  as  busy  as  mince  meat  choppers,  and  I  fancied  a 
voice  called  from  the  dark  doorway: 

"  Hurry  up,  now  I  The  oven's  red  hot,  and  if  we  don't 
have  them  pies  ready  when  the  wagongets round,  there'll 
be  hell  to  pay  and  nothing  to  pay  it  with." 

"Will  you  have  bay  rum,~'r?"  The  barber  was  shak- 
ing me  by  the  shouldar.    I  h  id  been  asleep. 


50 


CITY     CHA  RA  CTERS. 


THE    CORONER. 


Most  cities  have  only  one  coroner,  and  there's  where 
New  York  has  the  "bulge  "  on  them  if  I  may  drop  for  a 
moment  into  the  frivolous  language  of  the  young  men  with 
whom  I  am  thrown  in  daily  contact. 

We  are  rich  in  coroners,  we  revel  in  them,  and  if  a  sud- 
den and  mysteriously  made  corpse  can't  be  sat  upon 
properly  in  this  place,  it  can't  be  done  anywhere. 

The  coroner's  is  a  peculiar  office  and  one  that  I  never 
envied  in  all  my  ambitious  political  dreams.  I  am  per- 
fectly willing  to  serve  either  party  in  the  Custom  House, 
if  there  is  no  hard  work  to  be  done,  or  will  give  up  all 
social  ties  and  go  abroad  to  inspect  foreign  consulships— 
but  to  be  called  in  to  view  the  remains  of  the  murdered, 
the  accidentally  killed,  the  fellows  fished  from  the  river, 
the  suicides— bah  1 

And  yet  it  is  a  necessary  office,  and  very  luckily  one 
that  will  always  fascinate  and  attract  a  sufficient  number 
of  patriots  to  prevent  the  dread  possibility  of  its  ever 
being  vacant. 

I  have  known  a  good  many  in  my  time,  and  1  have  found 
that  despite  their  calling,  they  generally  possess  a  fund 
of  humor  that  surprises  3'ou. 

It  is  rather  grim  humor,  to  be  sure,  but  all  humor  can't 
be  light  and  volatile.  It  has  its  degrees  of  ponderousness 
precisely  as  other  things  have. 

I  shall  never  forget  one  time  in  an  Indiana  town  when 
the  coroner  and  myself— at  that  time  I  was  collecting 
items  for  a  provincial  paper— started  to  hold  an  inquest 
upon  a  baby  that  had  been  found  on  a  door-step. 

It  was  a  very  little  baby,  and  so  four  men  did  for  the 
jury.  The  law  required  more,  perhaps,  but  as  there  was 
no  one  to  claim  the  child,  and  the  town  had  to  bury  it, 
there  was  quite  enough  expense  clustering  about  the  inci- 
dent without  going  into  a  fabulous  waste  of  time. 

Such  a  pretty  little  baby,  lying  in  its  tiny  coffin,  it 
seemed  a  child  of  wax,  with  its  eyes  closed  like  sensitive 
flowers  that  had  gone  to  sleep. 

The  inquest  was  held,  the  necessary  papers  made  out, 
the  coroner's  fee  and  those  of  the  jurymen  attended  to, and 
then  the  official  and  I,  with  the  little  box  under  his  arm, 
started  for  that  part  of  the  place  where  both  his  office 
and  that  of  the  newspaper  were. 

I  don't  know  why  inquests  should  always  be  held  in 
taverns— but  they  are— any  more  than  I  know  why  every 
body  connected  with  an  autopsy  or  an  inquest  arc  willing 
to  take  a  drink  on  the  slightest  provocation;  but  they  are. 

This  inquest  had  been  held  in  a  tavern,  and  the  coroner 
was  slightly  mixed.  Uonesty  compels  mo  to  state  that 
I  too  had  been  looking  upon  the  wine  without  caring 
whether  it  was  white  or  red.  It  was  Bourbon  wine,  and, 
as  near  u  I  remember,  of  a  pale  amber. 

At  any  rate  wo  stopped  at  two  or  three  places,  and  then 
we  had  to  sit  down  to  rest,  and  then  we  stopped  again. 

Suddenly  the  coroner  said: 

"  We've  lost  the  baby  1" 

And  we  had.  The  little  box,  scarce  two  feet  long,  which 
had  been  wrapped  up  in  a  newspaper,  was  gone. 

Have  you  ever  gone  back  over  the  day's  adventures  of 
an  umbrella  to  see  where  you  could  possibly  have  left  it ? 
Well,  we  did  that  with  reference  to  the  baby. 

Was  it  this  saloon  T    Had  it  been  that  one  t    Slowly  the 


trail  was  worked  back,  blazing  our  way  as  we  went,  and 
finally  success  crowned  our  efforts.  A  good-natured  Boni- 
face had  the  package,  as  he  called  it,  stowed  away  under 
his  safe. 

"  I'm  tired,  coroner,"  I  ejaculated  when  the  excitement 
was  over,  and  I  sank  into  the  only  chair  in  the  bar. 

"  But  what'll  I  sit  on,  Lynxy  ?"  said  the  official. 

"  That  is  good,"  cried  out  mine  host.  "  Here's  a  coroner 
with  nothing  to  sit  on  !" 

"By  Jove,"  whispered  my  friend,  "  I'll  sit  on  the  baby." 

And  so  he  did,  for  the  second  time,  holding  an  inquest 
in  the  bar  for  the  sake  of  getting  a  chair.  Luckily,  none 
of  our  former  jurymen  were  present.  More  papers  were 
made  out,  more  fees  charged  up,  and  next  morning  my 
journal  had  a  prettily  pathetic  account  of  how  in  one  day 
the  indefatigable  coroner  had  been  called  upon  to  hold  an 
inquest  in  the  cases  of  two  bah  s  left  in  out-of-the-way 
places  by  their  heartless  parents,  who  were  either  crimi- 
nally responsible  for  their  death  or  too  poor  to  bury  them. 
No  traces  of  violence,  however,  I  added,  were  found  upou 
their  bodies. 

On  the  strength  of  this  our  editor  pitched  into  the  im- 
morality of  the  age,  and  called  upon  the  legislature  to 
change  the  name  of  the  place  to  either  Sodom  or  Gomor- 
rah, since  it  was  clearly  drifting  toward  a  brimstone 
destruction. 

The  coroner  and  I  were  intimate  lor  years  after,  and 
when  he  alluded  to  the  circumstance  he  always  said: 

"  Didn't  we  have  fun,  though  ?" 

I  have  introduced  this  cheerful  little  anecdote  to  show 
you  his  idea  of  humor. 

The  coroner's  office  in  New  York  is  at  the  corner  of  Mul- 
berry and  Houston  streets.  It  is  utterly  inadequate  in 
size  for  its  purposes,  and  the  sooner  suitable  apartments 
are  prepared  for  inquests  the  better  all  around. 

When  the  Mrs.  Hull  inquest  was  held  it  was  found  that 
the  room  was  useless.  One  in  Police  Headquarters  had  to 
be  obtained. 

There  are  a  host  of  clerks  attached  to  the  department, 
and  each  coroner  has  a  physician  whose  business  it  is  to 
examine  scientifically  into  the  causes  of  the  deaths  they 
are  called  upon  to  investigate.  Thephysieians  also  preside 
at  those  gay  gatherings  called  autopsies.  If  the  spirit  can 
look  down  upon  the  clay  it  has  left  it  must  feel  aAvfully 
cut  up  sometimes  at  the  manner  in  which  the  remains 
are  treated. 

The  New  York  coroners  and  their  physicians  have  their 
carriages,  and  are  so  enabled  to  move  about  the  city  with 
rapidity  when  the  dread  despatch  requiring  their  pre- 
sence is  received. 

In  a  great  many  instances  they  are  met  by  a  fierce  op- 
position on  the  part  of  the  family  of  the  deceased, who 
will  go  to  the  extent  of  lying  at  a  tremendous  rate  in 
order  to  avoid  the  scandal  and  publicity  of  an  inquest. 

This  is  particularly  so  with  swell  people,  one  of  whose 
connections  suddenly  shoots  himself  or  herself,  or  takes 
poison.  There  are  hundreds  of  instances  every  year  in 
this  city  where  the  public  hears  of  just  such  irregular 
transactions. 

The  family  are  aided  in  the  deception  only  too  fre- 
quently by  their  private  physician  who  gives  a  certificate 


CITY    CHARACTERS. 


51 


twisting  the  genuine  facts  to  sait  the  purposes  of  con- 
cealment. 

Some  rural  coroners  are  very  energetic.  They  sit  in  the 
corner  grocery  eating  crackers  out  of  the  free  barrel  and 
employ  scouts  to  hunt  up  cases. 

I  do  not  believe  that  story,  however,  of  the  young  man 
who  on  being  elected  to  the  position  opened  the  ball  by 
holding  an  inquest  on  the  village  cemetery  and  sending  in 
a  lump-bill  his  fees. 

Still  such  political  corruption  would  be  possible  under 
a  "  ring."    In  Tweed's  time  there  was  nothing  to  prevent 


the  coroners  holding  inquests  on  the  statues  in  the  Park, 
or  the  pictures  in  the  governor's  room  of  the  City  Hall. 

In  Pennsylvania  there  is  a  place  where  four  cross-roads 
mark  and  separate  as  many  counties,  and  it  was  there 
that  the  most  obliging  man  that  ever  lived  met  his  death. 

He  was  aeronaut,  an  un-Wise  one.  When  his  balloon 
was  a  mile  high  he  fell  out,  but  with  unerring  precision 
he  struck  the  centre  of  the  crossing  lines  and  splashed 
into  four  counties. 

Making  four  inquests  necessary. 

And  four  coroners  happy. 


THE    LUNCH    FIEND. 


The  lunch  fiend  is  always  a  man  who  has  seen  better 
days.  It  is  true  that  he  has  seen  them  a  long  while  ago, 
but  the  genuineness  of  the  apparition  cannot  be  impugned. 

You  can  tell  that  by  the  way  he  puts  mustard  on  abitof 
cheese,  or  uses  his  spoon  in  adding  the  warm  bean  soup  to 
the  forces  of  his  somewhat  gaunt  composition. 

True  gentility  is  noticeable  in  every  movement;  while 
watching  him  you  are  sure  that  you  behold  the  wreck  of 
a  former  gorgeous  life,  and  there  steals  over  you  that 
peculiar  sensation  which  you  experience  in  Greece  when 
you  stand  among  the  moonlit  pillars  of  some  famous  ruin. 

Not  that  there  is  any  moonshine  about  the  lunch  fiend. 
He  is  a  practical  man,  and  terribly  in  earnest. 

The  particular  fiend  whom  I  wish  to  describe,  and  in 
whom  I  have  taken  a  sort  of  proprietary  interest,  is  met 
whenever  business  or  pleasure  calls  me  through  the  drink- 
ing places  of  Nassau  street,  Beekman  street  and  Park  row. 

He  is  tall  and  cadaverous,  reminding  one  of  Don  Quixote 
in  a  particularly  hard-up  condition. 

His  seedy  black  coat,  which  shines  like  an  octogenarian 
fish,  is  buttoned  close  to  the  throat.  Sometimes  it  is 
pinned.  His  battered  hat  always  has  the  semblance  of 
having  been  brushed  a  long  time  the  wrong  way,  the  mis- 
take having  been  rectified  partially  by  a  liberal  applica- 
tion of  melted  butter  or  stove  polish. 

He  manages  to  cling  to  an  eye-glass,  fastened  about  his 
neck  by  a  piece  of  black  cord  strongly  reminiscent  of  a 
shoe  string,  and  when  in  conversation  with  you  upon 
national  politics,  or  some  kindred  subject,  this  eye-glass 
is  twirled  with  all  the  grace  of  the  days  when  he  had  no 
further  use  for  its  aid  than  to  see  if  the  bank-notes  he  re- 
ceived in  change  were  good. 

My  gentle  fiend  is  always  poor  in  the  matter  of  shoes, 
but  there  is  noticeable  an  attempt  at  polishing  them 
which  again  bespeaks  the  gentleman  in  distress. 

When  I  enter  a  place  where  he  la  I  find  him  perusing 
the  newspaper.  He  is  a  great  reader,  quite  a  literary  per- 
son in  fact,  and  he  would  as  lief  miss  the  drawing  of  the 
soup  or  stew  lottery  of  each  saloon  he  visits  as  not  keep 
posted  on  the  affairs  of  the  day. 

By  knowing  all  about  the  massacre  of  the  English  at  Ca 
bul  he  is  cock-sure  of  an  invite  from  the  Tom-gin  Londoner 
who  comes  in  promptly  at  twelve  o'clock,  and  his  ac- 
quaintance with  the  circumstance  of  the  death  of  Baron 
Rothschild  actually  induced  the  proprietor  of  a  Chatham 
street  clothing  emporium  to  stand  a  beer.  The  Israelitish 
gentleman  went  back  to  his  emporium,  it  is  true,  and 
marked  up  the  price  of  an  overcoat  ten  cents,  but  with 
that  we  have  nothing  to  do. 

At  eleven  o'clock  lunch  is  ready.  The  fiend  does  not 
make  any  hasty  or  undignified  move.  He  calmly  reads  on 


as  if  oblivious  to  the  fact.  But  he  is  not.  After  the  first 
hungry  battalion  has  retired  from  the  attack  he  rises  to 
his  feet,  saunters  toward  the  door,  ai.d  then  turns  in  an 
easy,  careless  way  always  denoting  the  man  whose  time 
is  his  own. 

It  is  then  that  he  espies  the  lunch  as  if  now  for  the  first 
time,  and  he  goes  up  to  inspect  it  with  the  slow  but  steady 
step  of  death. 

In  another  moment  he  is  toying  over  a  piece  of  bread 
and  trifling  with  his  soup.  As  the  result  of  the  toying 
and  the  trifling  both  disappear  completely. 

Now  he  is  ready  for  the  second  place  on  the  list,  where 
they  have  beef  stew.  In  the  soup  saloon  he  is  sometimes 
dealt  out  the  lunch  when  he  hasn't  played  in  at  the  bar, 
but  when  the  savory  stew  is  dispensed  a  rigid  code  is 
maintained. 

It  becomes  necessary  then  to  obtain  either  five  cents  or 
to  run  across  an  angel.  Both  angels  and  half -dimes  are 
scarce  in  this  work-a-day  world,  especially  when  you 
want  them.  It  is  sometimes  so  rough  in  this  particular 
with  my  friend  that  even  on  the  coldest  days  he  is  forced 
to  contemplate  the  warm  and  smoky  stew  disappearing 
down  the  throats  of  those  about  him  without  his  even 
being  able  to  manage  a  plateful  himself. 

Was  the  position  of  Tautalus  any  worse  than  this?  I 
feel  sure  that  it  was  not.  By  a  singular  combination  of 
disastrous  circumstances  this  always  happens  when  the 
stew  that  he  likes  best  is  the  programme  of  the  day,  the 
mountainous  mutton  stew,  with  the  red  carrots  casting  a 
luminous  glow  over  it. 

But  let  us  imagine  the  lunch  fiend  under  happier  au- 
spices. Behold  him,  then,  with  a  plate  of  the  steaming 
compound  in  his  hand  ! 

Let  him  be  ever  so  hungry  and  he  will  not  forget  the 
genteel  style  of  eating.  Others  may  gulp  and  bolt,  but 
you  can  never  lell  that  the  lunch  fiend  is  really  enjoying 
the  dish  before  him.  And  yet,  God  help  him,  the  misera- 
ble repast  may  be  his  breakfast,  dinner  and  supper  com- 
bined. 

He  harpoons  the  bits  of  potato  lazily  and  pursues  the 
pieces  of  meat  in  a  diUetante  style  which  means  that  he  is 
really  doing  wrong  in  spoiling  his  appetite  for  dinner. 
He  never  fails  to  create  this  impression,  and  the  more 
lunches  he  succeeds  in  coralling,  the  better  and  more  nat- 
urally he  can  act  the  role. 

The  lunch  harvest  has  to  be  reaped  between  about 
1  a.  m.  and  2  p.  m.  There  is  no  more  until  a  hot  midnight 
lunch  is  served  in  some  down-town  places. 

When  the  dishes  and  soup-tureens  are  taken  away  the 
fiend  disappears.  He  is  really  a  part  of  the  idea,  and  he 
becomes  strangely  out  of  place  the  moment  all  traces  of 


53 


CHAR  A  CTERS. 


the  repast  are  removed  and  the  saloon  settles  down  to  a 
strictly  gin  trade. 

Where  does  he  go?  Let  us  follow  him  as  he  shambles 
down  Frankfort  street,  and  so  find  a  miserable  tenement 
in  Rose  street,  one  of  whose  wretched  garret  rooms  he 
inhabits. 

On  the  dirty  window-sill  are  ranged  bits  of  bread  and 
cubes  of  cheese.  He  adds  to  this  stock  as  he  comes  in, 
and  contemplates  it  with  complacency,  and  then  throws 
himself  upon  the  sickening  apology  for  a  bed. 

This  is  the  home  of  the  lunch  fiend.  Fetid,  clammy 
and  close  in  the  clam-chowder  time  of  summer;  biting 
cold,  dreary  and  damp  in  the  bean-soup  days  of  winter. 

Here  he  lives  with  remorse,  rats  and  vermin,  dreaming 


I  over  his  shattered  past  like  a  child  contemplating  a  vase 
it  had  broken. 
Every  day  he  issues  forth  to  obtain  his  food,  the  coat 
j  buttoned  tight  to  the  chin,  the  eye-glass  twirling,  the  silk 
hat  shining  in  the  sun.  He  is  an  actor  there  playing  his 
little  part.  It  is  hard  work  sometimes,  and  but  scanty 
prizes  are  won.  Still,  taking  one  day  with  another,  he 
fares  not  so  badly.  The  saloons  are  his  club,  he  has  the 
papers,  he  is  sure  of  lunch  and  a  reasonable  quantity  of 
rum. 

Some  morning  a  busy,  bustling  man  comes  to  inquire 
for  him  of  the  Dutch  landlady.    He  don't  speak  of  the 
fiend  by  name,  but  want's  to  knows  where  the  body  is. 
It's  his  first  and  last  visitor— the  coroner 


THE    BROADWAY    STAGE    DRIVER. 


It  is  a  curious  fact,  but  none  the  less  true,  that  a  Broad- 
way stage  driver  is  built  on  entirely  different  principles 
from  those  used  in  the  construction  of  the  rest  of  man- 
kind. 

When  a  cannon  ball  strikes  me,  as  it  frequently  has  in 
my  warlike  career,  it  tears  its  way  among  flesh,  nerves 
and  muscle.  Aimed  at  the  stage  driver,  the  cannon  ball 
would  be  baffled;  it  would  impinge  upon  the  surface  of 
the  semblance  of  humanity,  but  would  hastily  glide  off 
in  a  tangentical  line  of  disgust. 

Why  ?  Because  the  driver  in  question  is  constructed  of 
boiler  iron,  whalebone  and  tanned  leather.  Every  year's 
experience  and  exposure  only  serve  to  harden  his  frame. 
When  at  last  death  beckons  him  from  his  box  seat,  he 
quietly  throws  his  lines  across  the  horses,  and  without 
suffering  any  illness,  but  merely  dying  of  old  age,  he 
passes  to  that  shadowy  land  where  it  is  his  day  off  all  the 
time. 

Although  there  are  no  statistics  to  consult,  I  take  it  that 
the  average  age  of  a  well-seasoned  stage  driver  is  about 
two  hundred  years.  I  know  that  a  great  many  I  have 
ridden  with  have  Riven  me  personal  reminiscences  of 
famous  people  whom  they  could  not  possibly  have  known 
unless  such  was  the  case.  Methuselah  was  evidently  in 
the  "buss"  line,  which  readily  explains  the  green  old 
age  to  which  he  attained.  There  may,  indeed,  have  been 
omnibi  (how's  that?)  at  an  earlier  stage  even  than  his. 
Do  we  not  read  that  Adam  and  Eve  were  driven  from  the 
Oarden  of  Eden  ? 

The  stage  driver  has  generally  been  at  the  business  a9 
man  and  boy  all  his  life.  If  you  should  take  him  from 
hia  seat  and  lock  hnn  up  in  a  sandal  wood  box  for  ten 
years,  he  would  still  smell  like  a  horse  blanket  at  the  ex- 
piration of  that  period  of  time.  Although  there  may  be 
epochs  in  his  career  when  he  sat  between  the  spider- 
spoked  wheels  of  a  trotting  sulky,  and  thereby  achieved 
the  reputation  of  being  a  fast  driver,  still  his  actions 
have  always  been  of  a  conservative  order,  and  he  has 
never  ceased  to  advocate  the  maintenance  of  a  stable 
government. 

I  dearly  love  to  ride  alongside  of  these  old  curmud- 
geons, and  listen  to  their  stories  of  the  past.  There  is 
scarcely  one  on  the  Broadway  lines— I  am  not  speaking 
of  the  young  drivers— who  does  not  remember  Walt  Whit- 
man and  the  eccentric  freak  which  took  possession  of 
him  when  he  drove  a  Fulton  Ferry  stage  for  several 


weeks.  He  gave  it  up  to  continue  the  writing  of  poetry, 
and  therebj ,  in  my  humble  estimation,  spoiled  a  very 
good  driver  to  make  an  indifferent  poet. 

This  may  sound  like  sacrilege,  but  I  can't  help  it.  I 
have  frequently  seen  catalogues  of  hardware  stores  tLat 
possessed  as  much  rythm  and  poetical  fancy  as  are  to  be 
found  in  some  of  the  effusions  of  the  author  of  "  Leaves 
of  Grass." 

But  perhaps  he  became  a  stage  driver  in  order  to  foster 
the  divine  gift.  Victor  Hugo  never  misses  his  daily  ride 
on  top  of  one  of  the  busses  that  ply  up  and  down  the 
boulevards,  and  has  admitted  that  he  composes  there. 
The  elevation,  the  untrammelled  view  and  the  fresh  air, 
so  different  from  that  inside,  undoubtedly  do  combine  to 
produce  an  agreeable  acceleration  of  spirits.  If  it  is  a 
lovely  spring  morning,  with  the  sun  tooling  his  golden 
"  drag  ■'  across  the  wastes  of  blue  o'erhead,  and  the  birds 
are  singing  in  the  trees  of  the  various  parks,  you  are 
dead  sure  to  enthuse  to  the  extent  of  tipping  his  "  nibs  " 
a  quarter,  and  becoming  extraordinarily  interested  in  his 
daily  life. 

How  much  does  he  get?  How  long  does  he  drive? 
When  did  he  first  begin?  Does  he  like  it?  These  and  a 
thousand  other  questions  you  ask  the  jehu,  and  as  his  re- 
plies indicate  as  hard  a  life  as  you  would  wish  your  dear- 
est enemy  to  lead,  you  become  terribly  indignant  at  the 
ill  arranged  condition  of  society  which  permits  such  out- 
rages, and  resolve  to  write  a  scathing  letter  to  the  news- 
papers on  the  subject.    But  you  never  do. 

We  also  sound  the  driver  on  the  Slawson  box  idea.  The 
old  man  is  bitterly  opposed  to  the  box  and  the  money- 
package  system  which  it  inaugurated.  Not  that  there 
was  ever  the  stage  driver  who  knocked  down  a  cent' 
Only  that  the  great  change  Implied  in  the  box  means  less 
change  implied  in  the  driver.  This  is  ;i  rather  paradoxi- 
cal statement,  and  I  myself  must  confess  that  I  don't 
quite  understand  it,  but  there  is  no  denying  the  fact  that 
all  these  honest  whips  flourished  exceedingly  up  to  the 
time  when  smarty  Slawson  sold  his  invention  to  the  vari- 
ous companies.  Then  they  commenced  to  complain  of 
hard  times. 

In  bad  weather  the  driver  has  the  top  of  the  'bus  all  to 
himself.  It  is  then,  on  days  when  the  snow  swirls  about 
him,  and  the  whips  of  the  wind  that  lash  his  tace  are 
tipped  with  hail,  th;it  his  peculiar  composition  of  boiler 
iron,  whalebone  and  tanned  leather  stands  him  in  good 


CITY    CHARACTERS. 


53 


stead.  With  four  plunging  horses  to  manage,  and  fingers 
benumbed  with  the  biting  cold,  driving  a  'bus  through 
the  crowded  Broadway  becomes  a  task  reauiring  at  once 
the  delicate  perception  of  the  fencing  master  and  the 
hardihood  of  an  Aleutian  seal  fisher.  It  is  no  wonder 
that  when  he  gets  down  at  the  stables  he  goes  straight  to 
the  nearest  saloon  and  tosses  off  a  tumblerful  of  rye.  An 
ordinary  mortal  could  not  survive  the  oraeal  of  more 
than  one  trip  on  the  top  of  a  Broadway  'bus  during  a  mid- 
winter storm 

A  stage  driver  who  has  not  handled  horses  for  at  least 
forty  years  is  of  no  account.  The  old  boys  look  upon  him 
as  a  green  nand,  and  are  never  surprised  when  they  hear 
that  one  of  these  novices  has  lost  a  wheel,  or  been  badly 
damaged  on  the  port  bow  by  a  truck.  The  driver  with 
whom  I  am  most  intimately  acquainted  belongs  to  the 
Twenty-Third  street  and  Ninth  avenue  line,  and  I  remem- 
ber that  when  riding  with  him  one  morning  last  May,  be 
spoke  very  hitterly  about  the  discharge  of  an  old  stager, 
a  friend  of  his,  and  the  substitution  of  a  horse-car  driver 
whose  experience  even  in  that  ignoble  field  had  extended 
over  twelve  years  only. 

My  friend  resembles  the  elder  teller  in  the  multiplicity 
of  the  the  coats  he  wears  during  the  inclement  weather. 
I  asked  him  once  if  he  did  it  to  imitate  Weller. 

"Whose  Weller?"  he  replied. 

"  He  was  a  famous  driver,"*  I  answered. 

"Never  heard  of  him.  Guess  he  must  have  belonged 
on  the  Fourth  avenue  line.  Xever  drove  a  stage  from 
our  place  anyhow. " ' 

When    the     Coaching  Club    parades,    the    Broadway 


drivers,  and  especially  those  who  go  up  Fifth  avenue, 
never  fail  to  samte  Col.  Delancey  Kane  and  the  rest  of 
the  heavy  swells  who  handle  the  reins  j  ust  f or  fun.  It  is 
recognized  at  once  that  all  drivers  belong  to  a  common 
fraternity,  the  difference  being  simply  in  finely  gradu- 
ated degrees.  They  do  not  salute  Col.  Delancey  Kane  on 
account  of  his  wealth  and  social  position,  but  simply  be- 
cause he  knows  how  to  drive  and  handle  the  whip  grace- 
fully. 

These  omnibus  drivers  have  a  mutual  benefit  associa- 
tion which  looks  after  them  when  they  are  sick.  This 
rarely  occurs,  however.  Horrible  as  the  life  is  in  its 
lengths  of  hours  upon  the  box,  in  its  absolute  dearth  of 
times  for  proper  rest  and  recreation,  the  men  seem  to  be 
accustomed  to  it,  and  to  bear  its  rigors  with  the  utmost 
ease. 

It  has  no  future.  What  the  driver  is  to-day  he  will  be, 
if  alive,  twenty  years  from  now.  There  is  no  chance  to 
save  money,  or  to  lay  up  anything  more  substantial  than 
an  umbrella  for  that  inevitable  rainy  day  which  glowers 
before  all  of  us. 

It  is  only  a  question  of  time  when  the  stage  lines  will 
be  abolished.  Let  us  trust  that  they  will  last  as  long  as 
the  present  generation  of  drivers,  for  I  can  conceive  no 
more  sad  spectacle  than  one  of  them  out  of  work. 

In  the  meantime,  when  you  ride  on  top,  do  the  correct 
thing,  and  utterly  ignore  the  existence  of  the  Slawson 
box.  By  so  doing  you  show  yourself  to  be  a  person  of 
spirit:  and  if  you  should  run  connter  to  the  interests  of 
the  company,  why  that  is  their  lookout,  not  yours. 


THE    BANK    CLERK. 


In  the  clerking  world  the  bank  clerk  ia  the  aristocrat,  j 
I  have  made  a  careful  study  of  hi:a,  beir.^'  particularly 
favored  once  by  living  in  a  house  where  it  was  possible  to 
compare  him  wi:h  a  dry  goods  tosser,  and  it  required  but 
the  space  of  a  dinner  hour  to  see  that  one  was  "  fine  cut " 
and  the  other  "  plug." 

The  bank  clerk  lives  constantly  in  an  atmosphere  of 
luxury.  The  men  he  meets  during  the  day  are  monied 
individuals,  from  the  millionaire  notch  down.  If  he  is  in 
the  cash  department  he  handles  greenbacks  so  constantly 
that  the  bills  passing  through  his  hands  actually  lose 
their  monetary  value,  and  become  to  him  as  so  much 
merchandise. 

His  work  is  light  and  he  is  well  paid  for  it.  The  situa- 
tion is  a  life  one  if  he  behaves  himself,  and  as  the  old 
roosters  drop  from  their  stools  into  their  coffins  he  ad- 
vances along  the  line  of  promotion. 

No  wonder,  then,  that  he  is  so  many  karats  finer  than 
the  miserable  beings  who  decorate  Broadway  windows 
■with  dry  goods,  or  lug  bolts  of  cloths  about  from  early 
morning  until  candle-light,  and  all  for  a  salary  that  is  a 
premium  on  dishonesty. 

I  am  never  surprised  when  I  read  about  a  clerk  in  one  of 
the  Grand  street  stores,  for  instance,  being  detected  in 
stealing  si  k  or  any  other  trifle.  Many  of  them  are  mar- 
ried, and  since  the  highest  salary  paid  to  the  rank  and  file 
would  hardly  keep  a  man  and  a  dog  respectably,  the  prob- 
lem of  supporting  a  family  on  it  is  one  that  is  tragically 
ridiculous. 


Now  our  natty  bank  clerk  labors  under  none  of  these 
disadvantages.  When  he  steals— and  I  regret  to  state  that 
there  have  been  such  instances  placed  upon  record— it  is 
generally  to  cover  up  a  flyer  that  he  has  been  having  in 
Wall  street.  He  shoots  a  second  golden  barbed  arrow  in 
order  to  find  the  first. 

In  his  leisure  hours  the  bank  clerk  is  a  great  society  or 
sporting  man,  just  as  his  fancy  determines.  He  lives  up 
town  in  a  first-class  boarding  house.  He  is  very  particular 
about  his  dress,  generally  wearing  the  English  style  of 
clothes  which  the  brokers  affect.  If  ne  is  not  calling  apon 
the  ladies  in  the  evening  he  is  at  the  theatre,  or  in  some 
billiard  hall  where  he  has  a  private  cue.  Too  frequently 
he  doesn't  get  home  until  very  late,  and  where  this  hap- 
pens it  is  necessary  for  him  to  have  a  couple  of  brandies 
and  soda  in  the  morning  before  he  can  get  his  hand  in 
steady  writing  trim. 

I  must  not  be  understood  as  representing  a  young  man 
fond  of  fast  life  in  limited  doses  and  holding  him  forth  as 
a  specimen  of  the  fraternity.  Every  New  York  bank 
clerk  is  not  necessarily  fond  of  beer  and  billiards  any 
more  than  every  treasurer  of  a  Fall  River  mill  is  an 
honest  man.  But  the  conservative,  respectable,  always 
home-to-dinner  sort  have  not  come  my  way  much,  and 
I  can  only  speak  of  the  bank  clerk  as  I  have  found  Him. 

In  two  or  three  instances  I  have  known  tellers  and  book- 
keepers who  would  suddenly  be  seized  with  a  most  in- 
tense desire  to  go  to  Europe  and  gaze  upon  the  monu- 
mental memoranda  of  antiquity;  and  th°re  have  been 


54 


CITY     CHARACTERS. 


others,  whom  I  have  met,  whose  greatest  ambition  at  the 
time  In  question  was  to  get  to  Canada  and  see  whether 
the  Governor-General  was  running  the  Dominion  in  a 
way  that  would  please  Mrs.  Victoria. 

By  a  singular  coincidence  the  accounts  of  these  gentle- 
men would  be  found  mixed. 

A  pure  case  of  tangled  threads  among  the  gold.  Yes; 
and  among  the  silver  and  the  greenbacks  and  negotiable 
securities. 

The  harsh,  outside  world  calls  this  stealing,  but  it  is  not 
so  looked  upon  by  the  banking  fraternity.  It's  an  "ir- 
regularity" at  the  worst.  In  a  few  rare  cases  punishment 
is  meted  out,  but  in  the  majority  of  instances  the  diffi- 
culty is  smoothed  over  by  partial  restitution,  and  the 
sponge  of  compromise  wipes  out  all  record  of  the  crime. 

See  how  nicely  the  teller  of  the  latest  robbed  bank  kept 
an  exact  account  of  the  balances  he  bled,  in  order  to 
allow  his  outside  "pal ' '  to  overdraw.  He  had  it  all  down 
in  a  neat,  little  book,  even  to  the  pennies.  The  bank,  no 
doubt,  felt  very  grateful  over  this  evidence  of  care,  which 
saved  them  the  expense  of  an  expert. 

When  these  young  men  do  begin  to  speculate  on  Wall 
street  with  the  funds  of  the  institution  they  do  it  in  an 
elegant  manner  and  on  the  wholesale  plan.  False  balance 
sheets,  doctored  accounts,  hypothecation  of  bonds— these 
are  the  instruments  of  their  security  while  the  operations 
are  in  progress.  When  it  gets  too  warm,  or  when  the 
time  draws  near  for  the  government  examiner  from 
Washington  to  put  in  an  appearance,  then  they  begin  to 
study  up  the  climate  of  Canada  or  to  invest  in  European 
guide-books. 

Out  in  the  mining  towns  of  the  West  there  is  many  a 
bank  clerk  wearing  a  woollen  shirt,  drinking,  shooting, 


gambling  with  the  rest  of  them,  who  used  to  be  a  pink  of 
perfection  in  dress  as  he  stood  behind  the  glass  barrier  in 
the  down-town  bank. 

"What  brought  you  here,  Charley  ? "  I  asked  one  of  them 
I  met  in  Colorado  some  years  ago.     "Tell  me  her  name.'' 

I  felt  sure  tbat  it  was  a  woman  scrape  because  my 
friend  was  a  most  decided  beau,  and  had  more  elegant 
womena  doring  him  than  would  be  necessary  for  the 
Sultan's  harem. 

" 'Twasn't  a  petticoat,'"  he  answered.  "I  simply  went 
in  to  declare  a  bigger  dividend  than  the  bank  could,  and 
it  kind  of  broke  me  up.    Let's  liquor." 

Women,  however  are  the  cause  of  the  ruin  of  ninety 
per  cent,  of  confidential  clerks,  whether  employed  in 
banks  or  breweries,  who  go  astray.  I  do  not  mean  sweet- 
j  hearts  upon  whom  presents  are  lavished,  or  wives  who 
are  allowed  to  indulge  their  dressing  tastes  to  the  most 
extravagant  degree.  The  feminines  I  have  in  view  are 
the  shady  creatures  who  must  be  established  in  grand 
style,  who  look  unon  money  as  a  necessity,  and  who  will 
fly  to  another  cage  the  moment  the  gold  wears  from  the 
bars  of  the  one  in  which  they  are. 

A  young  man  in  the  Tombs,  he  was  a  bank  clerk,  con- 
fessed to  me  that  his  girl  had  been  the  cause  of  his  down- 
fall. 

"She  ordered  me  to  raise  money  somehow,"  he  said, 
"and  I  tried  to." 

"How?" 

"I  raised  a  hundred-dollar  check  to  a  thousand,  and 
here  lam." 

Moral— Raise  up  a  bank  check  in  the  way  it  should  not 
go,  and  there  will  generally  be  trouble. 


THE    BOLD    MILITIAMAN. 


Although  all  ray  tendencies  are  naturally  of  a  war-like  | 
complexion— to  that  degree,  indeed,  that  I  would  sooner  j 
smell  gunpowder  than  live  near  a  Williamsburgh  oil  re-  j 
finery— still  I  never  gushed  much  over  the  militia. 

I  recognize  the  importance  of  the  institution,  of  course, 
and  no  one  is  more  enthusiastic  than  myself  when  there 
is  a  review  being  held  and  the  splendid  "  7th  "  comes 
swinging  down  Broadway,  with  the  ladies  waving  hand- 
kerchiefs from  store  windows  and  hotel  balconies,  and 
the  Flemings  of  the  police  clubbing,  jabbing  and  poking 
those  who  unfortunately  occupy  the"  front  line  of  spec- 
tators. 

It  is  needless  for  me  to  state  that  I  was  a  constant 
visitor  at  the  7th's  Armory  Fair.  My  martial  form  loomed 
up  among  other  warriors  to  an  embarrassing  point  of 
notoriety,  and  in  the  evening  I  wore  all  my  Mexican  and 
Seminole  decorations.  I  flatter  myself  that  the  impres- 
Bion  I  created  among  the  fair  sex  can  be  qualified  by  no 
other  adjective  than  "  stunning." 

That  is  the  night  they  roped  me  into  six  raffles,  or  draw- 
ings. I  wanted  a  meerschaum  pipe,  and  I  succeeded  in 
Winning  a  blue  satin  pin-cushion. 

It  has  always  Im  hi  BO  W  Ltb  DM  in  thislife;  I  never  loved 
a  dear  gazelle,  and,  in  fact,  I  wouldn't  have  one  of  them 
about  to  cheer  me  with  its  coal-black  eye,  or  to  perform 
any  other  service,  and  so  I  can't  use  that  somewhat  trite 
quotation  to  express  disappointment;  but  I  never  sighed 


figuratively  for  a  meerschaum  that  it  didn't  turn  into  a 
pin-cushion. 

My  experience  was  a  contribution  to  the  success  of  the 
fair  and  I  do  not  begrudge  it.  There  remains  now  the 
difficult  problem  of  presenting  this  pin-cushion  to  some 
young  woman  in  a  manner  at  once  so  polite  and  yet  dis- 
tant that  she  may  not  detect  in  it  any  amatory  intent 
either  immediate  or  prospective. 

Perhaps  my  dislike  for  the  militia  had  its  origin  in 
rooming  once  with  a  yoang  man  who  had  drilling  musters 
and  roll-calls  on  the  brain.  This  was  a  good  while  ago, 
before  I  had  won  my  own  spurs  on  the  genuine  tented 
field.  Scott's  tactics  were  j  ust  being  superseded  by  Har- 
dee's, and  I  was  forced  to  listen  to  explanations  touching 
the  differences  to  be  noticed  in  the  drill  details.  The 
position  of  the  little  finger  in  Its  relation  to  the  seam  of 
the  pantaloons  always  struck  mo  then  as  something  on 
which  the  fate  of  battles,  and  consequently  that  of 
nations,  must  naturally  depend,  so  profuse  were  the 
directions  in  the  book  touching  such  positions. 

But  it  wasn't  all  this  nunutiju  that  ennuinl  me.  Too 
much  drilling  is  naturally  a  bore,  but  I  stood  it  manfully. 
It  was  w  hen  the  .\  oung  warrior  came  home  drunk,  which 
was  every  Tuesday,  Thursday  and  Saturday,  and  insisted 
upon  getting  into  bed  with  n»e  "  accoutred  as  he  was," 
bayonet  and  all,  that  I  kicked.  His  continually  borrow- 
ing my  white  trousers  on  inspection  days  and  bringing 


CITY    CHARACTERS. 


55 

just  as  he  had  sounded  the  signal  for  a  charge  upon  the 
enemy  I 

Jim  Fisk  was  a  colonel,  but  when  the  draft  riots  hap- 
pened, he  found  that  his  exalted  position  didn't  enable 
him  to  get  over  back-yard  fences  any  faster  than  if  he 
had  been  a  mere  private. 

It's  very  nice,  also,  to  go  down  Broadway  at  the  head  of 
your  regiment,  but  even  then  all  a  man's  joy  may  be  dissi- 
pated by  his  horse.  Better  far  to  own  your  horse  and  ac- 
custom him  to  the  circumstances  of  war,  but  every  one 
can't  do  that,  and  when  it  comes  to  trying  to  make  a 
hired  Second  avenue  car  steed  assume  the  gait  of  a 
trooper's  charger  the  result  is  not  always  satisfactory. 

It's  better,  however,  than  being  astride  of  a  milkman's 
Rosinaute,  for  they  want  to  dash  down  every  street  that 
forms  a  part  of  their  daily  route. 

There  is  one  advantage  about  being  a  militiaman  that 
mustn't  be  overlooked.  All  the  handsome  young  fellows 
are  great  favorites  with  the  ladies.  I  found  it  to  be  the 
case  when  I  was  young,  and  even  now  when  I  dress  up  to 
go  to  the  annual  dinner  of  the  1812  veterans— but  no  mat- 
ter. There  is  something  in  the  military  idea  which  par- 
ticularly suits  the  feminine  mind.  In  the  opera  of  "La 
Grande  Duchesse  '  this  adoration  is  beautifully  expressed 
by  the  instantaneous  admiration  conceived  for  Fritz  by 
the  Duchesse.    It's  very  nice  to  be  that  kind  of  a  soldier. 

The  conservative,  peacable  element  is  a  strong  one  in 
the  community  and  must  be  respected.  There  are  Quaker 
societies  who  wish  our  army  reduced,  and  you  see  how 
elegantly  it  is  being  done  by  the  Ute  and  other  Indians. 

Bobby  Burns,  the  poet,  was  opposed  to  all  soldiering. 
Do  you  not  remember  that  verse  : 

"  Let  those  who  wish  to  go  to  war. 
Give  me  my  peace  and  plenty— 
I'd  rather  be  the  life  of  one, 
Than  be  the  death  of  twenty." 

I  am  afraid  that  Bobby  was  very  industrious  in^  living 
up  to  the  principles  of  these  lines. 


them  home  to  me  with  mud  up  to  the  waist — a  pure  waste 
of  mud— was  also  annoying. 

Then  his  conversation.  Like  all  men  with  a  hobby,  he 
became  a  nuisance.  The  squad,  the  company,  the  regi- 
ment, were  never-failing  subjects  for  his  martial  mono- 
iogue.  The  sudden  coming  to  the  house  of  a  young  lady 
who  had  a  brother  in  the  navy  was  hailed  with  delight. 
We  looked  upon  the  circumstance  as  an  antidote  for  the 
military  poison,  and  so  applied  it.  Everything  became 
nautical,  much  to  our  militiaman's  intense  disgust.  The 
young  ladies  sang  "  A  Life  on  the  Ocean 'Wave,'*  and  I 
went  to  the  extravagance  of  doing  the  hornpipe  for  them 
in  the  most  approved  foc'st'le  style. 

I  don't  wish  anyone  to  understand  that  I  am  decrying 
the  militia  system.  I  consider  the  National  Guard  of  the 
State  of  New  York  an  institution  of  which  to  be  proud, 
while  the  drill  experience  of  the  armory  is  undeniably 
a  good  thing  physically  for  our  hollow-breasted,  narrow- 
chested  young  men,  whose  chief  exercise  during  the  day 
would  appear  to  consist  in  hopping  from  one  high  stool 
to  another,  not  exactly  like  the  chamois,  because  there 
are  no  stools  in  the  Alps  for  the  chamois  to  hoop  on,  but 
in  their  general  style.  It  gives  the  young  guardsman  an 
erect  attitude  and  an  idea  of  discipline  which  is  in  itself 
a  valuable  acquisition.  I  merely  meant  in  my  seemingly 
derogatory  remarks  to  express  my  own  sentiments  on  the 
subject.  Having  waded  in  blood  I  naturally  long  for  a 
life  of  peace.  Knowing  what  it  was  to  serve  and  com- 
mand, I  now  appreciate  the  most  untrammelled  liberty. 
If  I  belonged  to  a  regiment  i  would  be  paying  fines  con- 
tinually, and  would  be  robbed  of  the  pleasure  of  sitting  in 
the  windows  with  the  pretty  girls  and  watching  the  gal- 
lant fellows  go  by. 

I  wouldn't  mind  being  a  colonel,  but  even  the  pomp  and 
glory  of  that  position  are  only  maintained  at  an  immense 
expense.  It  is  a  very  responsible  position,  too.  You  are 
answerable  for  the  conduct  of  your  men.  Think  of  the 
embarrassing  attitudejn  which  Colonel  Charles  Spencer 
would  be  placed  should  a  loaded  brewery  wagon  pass  by 


THE    THEATRICAL    PRESS    AGENT. 


The  press  agent  of  a  show  or  a  star  Is  as  different  from 
himself  in  both  instances,  when  working  in  the  city  and 
"on  the  road "  respectively,  as  if  he  were  two  human 
beings,  a  sort  of  adjustable  Siamese  twins,  for  instance. 

In  the  rural  districts  getting  newspaper  notices  for  the 
attraction  he  represents  is  comparatively  easy  work.  The 
most  influential  provincial  journals  will  have  no  hesi- 
tancy in  printing  the  most  complimentary  paragraphs 
provided  the  agent  does  the  correct  thing  in  the  waj- of 
drinks,  cigars  and  tickets. 

And  of  course  the  agent  does  the  correct  thing.  That's 
what  he  is  there  for.  The  "  local "  editor  climbs  to  his 
sanctum,  full  of  his  native  rum,  and  cheerfully  mentions 
that  the  genial  Mr.  Blank  paid  them  the  compliment  of  a 
visit  yesterday  and  unfolded  the  scheme  of  the  circus,  or 
theat.ical  combination,  as  the  case  may  be,  which  is 
shortly  to  honor  the  town  with  a  visit.  Then  the  editor 
becomes  eloquent,  and  hopes  that  every  man  and  woman 
in  the  place  will  look  upon  the  purchase  of  a  ticket  for  the 
entertainment  as  a  duty  but  a  trifle  less  sacred  than  send- 
ing in  back  subscriptions  and  the  formation  of  newspapo- 
rial  clubs  for  the  future. 


This  is  the  granger  way,  and  it  works  elegantly  every- 
where save  at  Salt  Lake  City.  Poor  Artemus  Ward  used 
to  say  that  after  the  editors  and  their  families  got  seated 
there  were  only  about  four  25-cent  chairs  left  for  the  pay- 
ing public. 

In  a  big  city  like  New  York  the  duties  of  the  theatrical 
press  agent  become  more  varied  and  more  difficult.  There 
is  a  certain  amount  of  hack  noticing  which  the  theatres 
expect  and  get  in  a  perfectly  legitimate  way.  Taking  the 
advertisements  into  consideration,  it  is  a  fair  case  of 
quid  pro  q»o.  But  to  work  up  a  fancy  sensation,  to  crea-.c 
a  stir,  to  warm  a  dying  idea  into  fitful  brilliancy— these 
are  the  problems  which  engross  the  minds  of  the  inge- 
nious gentlemen  whose  duty  it  is,  no  matter  how  crowded 
the  papers  may  be  with  startling  locals  or  important  cable 
dispatches,  to  inform  the  reading  world  that  the  eminent 
tragedian,  the  champion  conjurer  or  the  five-legged  horse 
is  each  in  his  or  its  way  on  exhibition  at  the  well  known, 
etc.,  where  every  evening  and  on  Saturday  afternoons, 
etc.,  etc. 

Some  theatrical  stars  have  a  monotonous  way  of  being 
advertised.    The  little  dodge  of  Clara  Morris  is  to  have 


56 


CITY    CHARACTERS. 


her  horse  run  away.  When  that  is  a  bit  stale  she  throws 
open  her  bedroom  doors  and  lets  the  entire  world  know 
how  sick  she  is.  I  do  not  think  that  her  agent  is  a  person 
of  good  taste. 

One  of  the  most  threadbare  devices  resorted  to  by  agents 
in  order  to  keep  the  names  of  histrionic  people  before  the 
world  is  the  published  announcement  of  the  theft  of  their 
jewels.  If  we  believed  every  story  of  this  kind  we  would 
have  to  credit  the  show  world  with  the  possession  of  more 
gems  than  are  to  be  found  in  Golconda  and  the  South 
African  fields  combined. 

One  of  Mapleson's  prima's— Mile.  Ambre — has  been 
puffed  exceedingly,  both  as  the  possessor  of  fabulously 
valuable  diamonds  and  as  the  ex-mistrcss  of  the  King  of 
Holland.  I  have  seen  her.  The  diamonds  are  all  there, 
but  she  isn't.  I  do  not  think  the  King  of  Holland  a  person 
very  difficult  to  suit. 

Gerster  can't  come  to  this  country  owing  to  the  fact 
that  she  doesn't  want  the  baby  rocked  in  the  cradle  of 
the  deep,  and  immediately  the  press  agent  starts  down  to 
Park  row  to  work  up  Marimon,  who  is  coming  over  in  her 
stead.  We  are  told  how  often  she  was  seasick,  and  what 
dreams  of  shipwreck  dire  troubled  the  slumbers  of  her 
French  maid.  All  this  is  high  art,  and  with  people  of  im- 
portance like  pnmas  it  is  not  difficult  to  get  the  gossip  in 
the  papers.    People  like  to  read  these  things. 

Now  puffing  an  electric  eel  or  an  educated  pig  is  quite  a 
different  affair.  The  king  at  this  sort  of  business  is  Mr. 
"  Tody  "  Hamilton.  He  actually  revels  in  forcing  an  un- 
attraction  before  the  people,  and  is  never  so  high-spirited 
as  when  the  obtaining  of  one  line  even  seems  an  impossi- 
bility. 

It  was  he  who  educated  the  oysters  at  the  Aquarium  to 
follow  him  all  about  the  building,  and  not  in  the  form  of 
a  box  stew  either.  That  was  wonderful  enough,  and  at- 
tracted crowds,  but  when  he  induced  them  to  whistle 
tunes  and  had  scientists  there  from  all  over  and  two  or 
three  blocks  further  still  to  study  the  phenomenon  while 
the  operatic  notices  were  cut  down  in  the  dailies  to  make 
room  for  the  oysters,  he  accomplished  his  masterpiece  of 
agitation. 

I  never  heard  them  whistle,  but  then  I  was  never  there 
on  a  day  when  the  temperature  was  just  right.  Mr. 
Hamilton's  oysters  were  very  like  the  spirits  you  meet  at 
25  cent  seances  in  Grand  street.  They  wouldn't  perform 
under  disturbing  circumstances. 

The  press-agent  is  continually  writing  manifold  notices 


or  cooking  up  novel  forms  of  advertisements,  but  still  he 
can  always  spare  time,  if  it's  with  a  newspaper  man,  to 
play  a  game  of  billiards  or  take  a  drink.  Properly  man- 
aged shows  allow  him  a  fund  for  down-town  expenses. 
No  one  is  bribed,  no  vulgar  business  promises  are  made 
one  way  or  the  other,  but  the  rosy  reflex  of  an  agreeable 
hour  spent  with  an  entertaining  gentleman,  and  they  are 
all  entertaining,  is  often  the  light  by  which  a  generous 
notice  is  given  that  otherwise  would  have  remained  un- 
penned. 

All  critics  are  not  the  pirates  that  Mr.  Boucicault,  the 
monumental  literary  footpad  of  the  world,  would  have 
you  believe,  and  they  frequently  do  what  the  press-agent 
desires,  simply  as  the  evolution  of  a  kindlj-  nature,  stirred 
to  the  deed  by  the  recent  contact  with  the  agent. 

It  is  absolutely  necessary  to  be  a  successful  agent  that 
one  should  lie  faster  than  any  horse  in  the  stable  of  Mr. 
Bonner  can  trot,  and  the  lie  must  be  told  with  great 
sauvity. 

"Didn't  get  those  tickets!  You  surprise  me.  I  put 
them  up  in  an  envelope,  addressed  them,  and  gave  them 
to  the  boy  myself." 

That's  what  he  says  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  when 
you  remind  him  of  an  utterly  forgotten  promise.  Other 
tickets  come  post-haste,  with  a  note  stating  that  although 
the  boy  was  the  only  support  of  a  widowed  mother,  who 
had  been  guilt3r  of  the  baby  act  on  nine  other  occasions, 
you  had  discharged  him  after  forcing  a  confession  from 
him  that  he  had  sold  your  tickets  to  a  speculator. 

You  know  the  agent  well,  and  do  not  feel  worried  about 
the  widowed  mother  and  her  starving  brood. 

All  systematic  agents  keep  scrap-books  in  which  printed 
notices  of  the  play  or  curiosity  are  entered.  Arranging 
these  notices  is  quite  an  art.  The  Daily  Rollimj-Pin,  for 
instance,  says  : 

"  Perhaps  the  worst  play  ever  written  was  produced  last 
night  by  the  Booby  Troupe.  As  we  yawned  in  our  seat 
over  its  blatant  nonsense  *"d  stupid  situations  we  sighed 
for  the  good  old  days  of  the  drama,  when  a  play  possessed 
sterling  merit,  logical  action,  and  witty  dialogue." 

Now  in  saving  this  notice  you  dou't  want  to  greedy 
with  it.    You  simply  paste  in  : 

"  Sterling  merit,  logical  action,  and  witty  dialogue."— 
Daily  Rollimj-Pin. 

This  is  the  correct  and  only  way.  I  have  been  an  agent 
myself,  and  understand  the  extraction  of  honey  from 
galL 


THE    PAWNBROKER. 


At  this  time  of  the  year  the  pawnbroker  is  a  very  handy 
relative.  Y<m  are  absolutely  nothing  without  money,  and 
it  is  he  who  is  only  too  willing  to  turn,  us  Mr.  Midas  used 
to  do,  any  of  your  temporal  possessions  into  gold. 

Not  so  willing  as  he  used  to  be.  The  loaning  trade  hasn't 
made  many  advances  lately.  People  have  become  so 
thoroughly  broke  that  the  per  centage  of  chance  of  their 
ever  turning  up  to  redeem  pledged  articles  has  steadily 
decreased,  and  the  capitalist  of  the  three  golden  balls  has 
not  been  slow  to  appreciate  the  situation. 

His  principal  trade  is  his  interest,  and  ?o  philanthropic 
is  the  pawnbroker,  despite  the  horrid  things  that  have 


been  said  of  him,  that  he  much  prefers  to  have  prosperity 
so  fall  upon  you  as  to  enable  you  to  take  out  whatsoever 
yon  may  have  Intrusted  to  his  care.  Still  the  revival  of 
trade  hai  had  its  effect  in  making  the  business  brisk.  It 
is  generally  so,  anyhow,  at  this  tune  of  the  year.  Ducats 
are  a  necessity,  and  if  the  chess  problem  of  life  can  be 
brought  any  nearer  a  satisfactory  Solution  by  the  sacrifice 
involved  in  a  "  pawn,''  it  is  bound  to  be  done. 

Many  estimable  citizens  who  have  a  Mack  of  tickets  in 
the  deepest  recesses  of  their  attenuated  pocketbooks  pro- 
fess to  look  upon  the  entire  system  of  pledging  household 
and  personal  goods  as  a  disreputable   one.      I  do  not 


CITY     CHAR  A  CTERS. 


57 


None  of  the  Lynxes  do.  At  this  very  moment  there  re- 
poses in  a  Second  avenue  establishmentof  advanced  ideas 
one  of  my  most  magnificent  uniforms.  Let  me  see— who 
was  it  I  cut  down  in  that  suit?  It  was  the  tailor— $80  to 
to  $60,  and  I  remember  that  the  fight  was  terrific. 

But  why  is  my  martial  cloak  and  all  the  rest  of  it  in 
the  pawn  shop?  Is  it  because  I  needed  money?  No. 
Those  military  garments  are  there  to  be  taken  care  of. 
When  myself  and  the  other  warriors  meet  for  a  dinner  I 
get  them  out.  The  occasion  passed,  in  they  go.  In  this 
way  the  pawnbroker  becomes  to  me  a  valet  who  takes 
care  of  my  clothes.  It  gives  me  more  room  in  my  humble 
apartment  for  brain  expansion  and  the  handling  of  my 
health  lift. 

Originally  the  pawnbrokers  came  from  Italy,  and  that 
accounts  for  there  being  so  many  in  Mulberry  street  and 
all  through  the  Italian  quarter.  The  precise  significance 
of  the  three  ball  game  they  play  with  you  has  never  been 
explained.  It  is  popularly  considered  as  an  exemplifica- 
tion of  the  fact  that  it  is  two  to  one  that  the  capitalist 
will  get  the  advantage  of  you.    I  cannot  vouch  for  this. 

There  are  many  of  the  Hebrew  children  turning  the 
nimble  sixpence  as  pawnbrokers.  In  each  instance  the 
method  of  conducting  business  is  precisely  the  same. 
Say  the  article  is  a  watch,  upon  which  you  want  $15. 

The  man  behind  the  counter  will  begin  to  shake  his 
head  before  you  get  in  the  door  at  all.  That  means  he  is 
up  to  your  little  tricks,  and  is  well  aware  that  you  intend 
to  endeavor  to  gouge  him  in  some  way. 

When  you  take  the  watch  out  of  your  pocket  the  pawn- 
broker groans.  This  suspicious  attitude  of  his  is  contag- 
ious, and  vou  really  begin  to  feel  that  you  are  a  thief,  say 
a  thief  trying  to  get  over  "  a  fence." 

He  picks  up  the  watch  deprecatinglv,  groaning  more 
and  more,  and  really  becoming  sq  miserable  that  sym- 
pathy is  excited  for  him.  He  must  be  ill.  The  rolling  of 
the  eyes  and  the  uplifted  hands  indicate  pain  in  the 
6tomach.  But  it  isn't  anything  of  the  kind.  It's  a  pan- 
tomimic expression  of  an  affection  of  the  money  chest. 

14  Oh  1  Mein  Gott  in  Himmel,  vot  you  vant  on  this 
vatch  ?" 

"  Fifteen  dollars !" 

M  Mosish  1  Mosish  1  Koomm  sie  hier— quick  Mosish.  He 
vants  fifteen  dollars !" 

Mosish  falls  down  in  a  fit,  and  is  dragged  into  the  next 
room.  He  has  been  sickly  since  his  birth  and  any  sudden 
shock  upsets  him. 

"  I  tell  you  vat  it  is,"  the  pawnbroker  finally  remarks, 
"  I  give  you  one  dollar,  seventy-five."  And  he  groans  all 
the  time  he  makes  out  the  ticket. 

This  is  the  regular  style  with  one  kind  of  pawnbrokers. 
Of  course,  they  vary. 

It  isn't  always  necessary  to  have  a  store  when  you  set 
up  for  a  pawnbroker.  If  you  prefer  it  you  can  just  go 
around  through  the  citv,  quietly,  in  a  social  way,  ar- 
ranging business  during  an  afternoon's  call,  and  leading 
altogether  a  more  agreeable  life  than  the  man  of  the  shop. 


Many  ladies  patronize  these  peripatetic  lenders  of  coin, 
the  articles  pledged  being  jewels  generally.  They  also 
catch  the  servant  girls  and  coachmen  for  small  transac- 
tions. 

Israelites  do  not  monopolize  the  trade  in  New  York  by 
any  means.  There  are  a  great  many  English  and  Irish  in 
the  business,  and  a  few  Yankees.  It  is  a  vocation,  how- 
ever, which  seems  to  particularly  suit  the  German  Jew 
character.  They  have  the  penetrating  glance  which  tells 
them  at  once  how  much  they  would  be  warranted  in  ad- 
vancing upon  a  certain  article.  When  they  have  settled 
this  in  their  mind  they  offer  one  half,  and  have  the  other 
as  a  margin  to  fight  over. 

The  shoddy  pawnbrokers— the  "  fences  "—they  are  the 
ones  who  make  money  in  that  irregularly  fast  way  known 
as  hand  over  fist.  Being  constantly  aware  of  the  fact 
that  they  are  liable  to  be  visited  by  the  police  at  any  mo- 
ment they  give  their  villainous  customers  but  little.  A 
set  of  silver  that  may  have  cost  a  murder,  diamonds  got- 
ten at  night  in  residences— all  such  goods  are  eagerly 
taken  but  the  burglar  gets  a  beggarly  amount. 

The  transaction  once  accomplished  the  "fence"  loses 
no  time  in  getting  rid  of  traceable  stuff.  Gold  ornaments 
are  melted  down  and  all  dangerous  goods  are  run  off  for 
distant  negotiation  by  agents. 

There  is  no  question  about  the  cheek  of  the  pawnbroker. 
He  will  offer  you  the  price  of  an  oyster  stew  for 
a  hundred  dollar  pin,  and  frequently  gets  badly 
"stuck"  with  "paste."  When  you  get  ahead  of  a 
pawnbroker  you  want  to  put  the  date  in  red  chalk  on  a 
fence  and  then  ask  some  one  to  help  you  celebrate  the 
glorious  event. 

The  most  monumental  instance  of  the  pawnbroker's 
cheek  was  that  afforded  by  the  Boston  dealer  who  re- 
luctantly gave  up  Mrs.  Hull's  jewelry,  upon  which  he  had 
paid  her  murderer,  Chastine  Cox,  some  money,  and  then 
put  in  a  plea  for  a  share  of  the  reward. 

The  laws  regulating  pawnbrokers  differ  in  different 
localities.  In  New  York  you  have  a  year  in  which  to  re- 
deem or  renew,  but  in  Philadelphia,  for  instance,  it  is  a 
question  of  four  months. 

It  was  ignorance  of  this  fact  which  made  it  possible  for 
me,  many  years  ago,  to  lose  a  watch  which  had  been  pre- 
sented to  me  by  the  gentlemen  of  the  office  in  which  I  had 
been  temporarily  engaged,  the  gift  expressing  either 
their  joy  or  sorrow  at  my  leaving. 

It  was  beautifully  inscribed  with  my  name,  etc.,  and  so 
elegant  altogether  that  I  deemed  it  too  valuable  to  carry 
during  a  season  in  which  pickpockets  were  flourishing 
alarmingly. 

So  I  temporarily  intrusted  it  to  the  guardianship  of  a 
gentleman  whose  name  was  either  Isaacs  or  Nathan 
thinking  I  had  a  year  to  contemplate  it  in  a  position  of 
absolute  security. 

It  was  a  good  "  going  "  watch  and  was  "  gone  "  at  the 
end  of  four  months. 


68 


CITY    CHAR  A  CTERS. 


THE    REFORMED    YOUNG    MAE. 


This  is  the  only  time  I  can  sketch  him  at  short  range, 
for  during  the  new  year  that  is  about  to  dawn  upon  us  he 
generally  melts  into  the  ranks  of  ordinary  mortals  and 
becomes  lost  as  a  distinctive  character. 

He  is  in  our  house,  is  the  very  youth  in  fact,  I  gave  some 
good  advice  to  about  political  bets.  It  was  yesterday 
morning  that  he  came  to  me  as  I  was  enjoying  my  cigar 
in  what  our  landlady  calls  the  conservatory,  although  it 
seems  to  me  to  be  a  particularly  dirty  extension-room  de- 
voted to  a  couple  of  tubs,  two  broken  croquet  mallets  and 
a  flower  pot,  and  said  : 

"  Colonel,  I  want  to  confide  in  you.'' 

"Ah,  ha,  my  boy,"  I  replied,  acknowledging  his  mili- 
tary salute,  "  you  have  come  to  the  right  place.  I  am  a 
perfect  mine  of  confidences  even  at  the  present  moment. 
Buried  here,"  and  I  tapped  my  chest,  "  are  state  secrets 
the  exposure  of  which  would  shake  this  country  to  its 
center,  while  the  New  York  Safe  Deposit  Company  is  as 
nothing,  when  compared  with  me  as  a  fiduciary  agent 
and  repository  of  individual  experiences.    Go  on  my  boy." 

He  paused  awhile,  as  he  naturally  would  under  this 
shot,  and  then  said  : 

"You  may  have  noticed  that  I  have  been  drunk  ever 
since  Christmas." 

I  told  him  that  such  was  the  privilege  of  a  gentleman, 
and  that  I  had  not  noticed  it.  In  fact  part  of  the  week 
there  had  been  storms  all  along  the  coast  in  my  case,  and 
on  this  morning  in  question  the  sea  was  squally. 

"  I  did  it  more  or  less  deliberately,"  he  went  on  to  say, 
"  because  I  am  going  to  swear  off." 

"  No  more  beer,  eh  ?  " 

"  No  beer,  gin,  whisky  or  anything  of  that  nature. 
Only  cider." 

"Did  you  ever  live  long  on  cider?'* 

"  No— I  have  generally  taken  it  as  an  element  of  the 
drink  called  a  "stone  fence.'  " 

"  But  you  have  never  grappled  with  the  cider  pure  and 
unadulterated?" 

"No." 

"  Nor  seen  the  stomach  of  the  dead  man  opened  by  the 
coroner?  " 

"What  dead  man? 

"The  cider  drinker.  You  must  know,  my  dear  boy, 
that  the  sudden  stoppage  of  the  use  of  fiery  liquids  and  a 
rush  to  cider  is  a  reformatory  experiment  the  result  of 
which  you  cannot  certainly  calculate.  You  must  go  slow, 
my  dear  boy.  You  want  to  begin  on  very  hard  cider  and 
gradually  work  down  to  the  temperance  article.  Then 
you're  all  right." 

Mr  thanked  me  ever  so  much  for  this  advice,  and  then 
continued  : 

"  I  am  going  to  reform  also  in  money  matters." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are  going  to  give  up 
the  practice  of  having  any  money  ? " 

I  asked  this  question  with  peculiar  emphasis.  The 
young  man  owes  me  a  draw -poker  debt  of  $7.50. 

"  oil,  no— nothing  like  that.  But  I  want  some  system, 
I  am  going  to  Iniy  B  little  book,  and  put  down  every  item 
of  daily  expense,  just  like  Benjamin  Franklin." 

"  You  will  keep  a  diary  ?  " 

"  I  have  bMO  thinking  of  that  too.  I  am  going  to  buy  a 
pretty  one  for  about  six  dollars,  and  precisely  at  mid- 
night, when  the  old  year  shivers  into  the  graveyard  of  the 
lit-ekec'.  —  " 


1 '  Come,  young  man,  hold  on  a  little.  Have  you  had  a 
drink  this  morning  ?  " 

"  I've  had  two  brandy  cock-tails." 

"  That  explains  it.    Goon." 

"  I  mean  I'll  write  my  inmost  thoughts,  and  all  the 
doings  of  the  day.  It  will  be  a  good  thing  to  refer  to  in 
after  years." 

"  Have  you  ever  kept  a  diary?  " 

"  This  is  my  virgin  effort." 

"  And  you  never  reformed  before  ?  " 

"  I  can't  say  that  I  have,  but  the  sad  and  solemn  mem. 
ories  of  the  dissipated  past  come  up  before  one  at  this 
time  of  the  year,  and  the  deeper  nature  of  man " 

I  ins'.inctively  moved  over  to  a  reasonable  proximity 
to  one  of  the  croquet  mallets.  When  you  are  talking  to  a 
young  man  who  has  had  two  brandy  cock-tails  before 
breakfast,  and  he  becomes  poetical  over  his  approaching 
reformation  you  can't  be  too  careful.  These  reformers 
are  peculiar. 

"  Y'ou  will  cultivate  the  mind  also,"  I  suggested— "  no 
more  billiards,  no  bowling  alley  over  in  Fourth  street?  " 

"  No,  sir— I  have  already  had  my  name  sent  in  to  the 
Pythagoras  Debating  Club  of  the  Eastern  Star  Temper- 
ance Lodge,  No.  486,  and  I'm  to  speak  next  week  on  the 
negative  side  of  the  question,  '  Isn't  it  about  time  the 
Czar  of  Russia  took  a  tumble.'  That  is  not  the  exact  lan- 
guage, but  it  covers  the  idea." 

He  told  me  of  various  other  reforms  he  intends  inaugu- 
rating and  then  asked  my  advice  on  the  entire  subject. 
I  went  in  heavy  on  the  high  moral  and  came  the  stage 
uncle  magnificently,  and  when  he  left  ine  he  was 
strengthened  in  all  his  good  resolves. 

At  this  writing  there  are  about  one  hundred  thousand 
young  men  who  are  going  to  imitate  my  young  friend, 
and  turn  over  a  new  leaf.  They  will  all  be  turned  simul- 
taneously and  the  noise  they  will  make  will  sound  like  a 
tempest  roaring  through  a  forest. 

But  will  the  reformed  young  men,  the  cider  brigade,  be 
about  Jan.  15th?  I  sincerely  hope  that  each  one  will 
still  be  drinking  cider,  keeping  account  of  daily  expenses 
and  writing  up  his  little  diary.  But  an  experience  of 
many  years  leads  me  to  the  dismal  prognostication  that 
eight-tenths  of  them  will  back-slide,  and  go  on  just  as 
they  did  before. 

I  have  reformed  myself  every  New  Y'ear's  day  since  I 
was  twenty  years  old,  and  I  intend  to  do  it  again  this 
time.  The  only  difference  between  now  and  when  I  was 
much  younger  is  that  my  reformation  fades  away  about 
noon  Jan,  1st. 

No,  my  dear  young  readers,  believe  an  old  man  when 
he  states  that  New  Y'ear's  reformations  are  not  worth  a 
continental,  whatever  that  is. 

If  the  reformation  does  not  come  from  the  soul  inde- 
pendent of  the  date  of  the  day  when  it  is  put  in  practice, 
it  is  not  a  genuine  article. 

I  shall  go  to  watch  meeting  on  next  Wednesday  even- 
in;,',  and  I  shall  roll  into  bed  with  an  idea  that  I  am  about 
to  revolutionize  my  entire  life.  I  may  even  buy  a  diary, 
but  before  the  work  is  over  I  will  be  using  it  as  a  scrap- 
book,  will  be  taking  my  "  constitutional  "  as  usual,  and 
will  be  too  busy  with  what  matters  1880  may  have  for 
me  to  consider  to  experience  even  the  faintest  twinge  of 
remorse  at  my  fall  from  «race. 


NEW    YORK'S     GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


59 


HARRY    HILL'S. 


Seeing  a  great  city  after  the  lamp-lighter  has  gone  his 
rounds  has  always  heen  a  favorite  amusement  with  those 
sportsmen  who  combine  a  keen  desire  to  hunt  the  elephant 
with  a  natural  disinclination  to  wander  away  from  the 
comforts  of  home. 

Most  fortunately  for  them  a  species  of  elephant  has 
heen  evolved  by  the  construction  of  such  places  as  New 
York,  London  and  Paris,  whose  pursuit  is  always  quite  as 
expensive  as  the  search  after  the  quadruped  whose  tusks 
were  invented  so  that  we  should  have  material  out  of 
which  to  manufacture  billiard  balls,  faro  checks  and  other 
articles  of  reriu  and  vice. 

Being  "an  old  rounder"  I  can  also  testify  that  the 
quest  of  the  metropolitan  elephant  is  as  exciting  as  that  of 
his  African  or  Asiatic  counterpart,  and  frequently  more 
dangei  ous. 

In  the  series  of  sketches  which  I  propose  to  write  for  the 
Gazette  I  will  take  the  reader  in  a  leisurely  way  through 
the  entire  city,  meeting  him  in  imagination  each  week  as 
old  Trinity  marks  midnight,  and  leaving  him  at  such  hour 
as  shall  warrant  his  getting  home  in  time  to  save  his 
reputation. 

We  shall  probably  cross  the  trail  of  that  theological 
straddle-bug,  the  Rev.  T.  De  Witt  Talmage,  who  came 
over  here  with  a  Brooklyn  dark  lantern  which  he  pro- 
ceeded to  flash  into  New  York  slums,  and  if  we  do  I  war- 
rant that  we  shall  find  things  entirely  different  from  the 
way  he  says  he  saw  them,  forcing  us  to  one  of  three  con- 
clusions, each  of  them  irreverent— (1)  that  the  Tabernacle 
.minister  knows  how  to  lie;  (2)  that  they  were  buying  him 
taffy  all  the  time;  (3)  that  he  was  drunk. 

We  will  begin  with  Harry  Hill's  place,  or  "  'Arry  'Ill's, '> 
as  he  is  called  by  his  cockney  friends. 

There  isn't  a  better  known  man  in  the  United  States 
than  Mr.  Hill,  nor  a  place  anywhere  in  this  or  the  old 
country  like  the  one  he  not  only  keeps  but  personal.y 
conducts  at  Houston  and  Crosby  streets. 

Midnight,  then,  at  Harry  Hill's  I 

It  is  just  the  best  time,  perhaps,  of  all  times  to  see  this 
famous  resort  at  its  red-hottest. 

All  the  young  swells  who  have  been  taking  country 
cousins  around  to  the  legitimate  and  illegitimate  theatres, 
and  all  the  commercial  travelers  in  charge  of  junior  part- 
ners of  the  various  business  establishments,  are  now  mak- 
ing their  way  to  this  combination  of  both  theatre  and 
dance-house. 

We  buy  our  tickets— twenty-flve  cents  apiece— at  a 
little  window  down  stairs  and  pass  upward  to  where  the 
shouts  of  laughter  and  thunders  of  applause  proclaim  that 
an  amusing  song  or  farcical  "  nigger  "  sketch  is  in  pro- 
gress. 

The  room  is  all  ablaze  with  light  and  heavy  with  smoke. 
The  stage  is  occupied  by  a  young  lady  in  a  wig  the  color 
of  "yellow-jack  molasses  candy,"  and  a  pair  of  pink 
tights. 

Her  cheeks  blaze  with  excitement  and  paint,  while 
each  energetic  gesture  accompanying  the  topical  song  she 
is  sin-zing  displays  her  bosom  lavishly.  She  does  not 
mind  this,  however,  and  since  we  are  all  gentlemen,  if 
we  are  out  for  a  lark,  no  one  notices  it. 

When  the  song  is  finished  there  is  a  chance  to  look 
about.  There  is  a  gallery  overhead  and  a  wine  room  to 
one  side.    There  is  also  a  long  lunch  counter  piled  high 


with  pigs'  feet,  cold  cuts,  pies,  etc.,  etc.    You  can  also  get 
piping  hot  coffee  and  tea. 

At  our  table  sit  two  young  men,  who  are  certainly  from 
the  countrv.  In  fact,  a  glance  over  the  room  will  show 
you  that  the  tiller  of  the  soil,  the  driver  of  the  oxen  and 
the  hoer  of  the  tubercle  are  out  in  force. 

Singularly  enough  Harry  Hill's  is  more  discussed  and 
made  more  of  in  the  country  than  anywhere  else. 

There  isn't  a  young  man  who  comes  up  to  "York"  to 
spend  his  little  sum  laid  aside  for  that  purpose  but  takes 
Harry's  in  just  at  sure  as  later  on  he  gets  taken  in  by 
some  Dutch  siren  on  the  Bowery. 

And  when  he  gets  back  to  Rushville  or  Punkton  and 
the  gang  assemble  down  at  the  depot  to  see  the  freight 
train  come  in,  he  tells  such  glowing  stories  of  the  place 
that  those  of  his  listeners  who  have  not  yet  had  such  a 
sensational  experience  dream  all  night  of  the  account, 
and  never  rest  until  they,  too,  have  gone,  and  seen,  and 
conquered. 

These  two  at  our  table,  if  they  tell  all  they  experienced, 
will  have  to  speak  of  the  two  young  ladies  in  seal-skin 
sacques  that  show  never  a  trace  of  having  been  in  a 
pawn  shop  all  summer,  who  sidle  down  beside  them  like 
little  birds  going  to  roost. 

"  Won't  you  buy  me  a  drink,  dear  ?"  says  one. 

"You'll  treat  me,  pet,  wen't  you?"  remarks  the  other, 
and  without  waiting  to  discuss  the  matter  further  the 
beautiful  creature  waves  one  of  the  waiter  girls,  who  are 
flitting  about  like  bees,  to  the  table. 

Of  course,  Punkton  is  equal  to  the  emergency,  even  to 
standing  a  treat  for  the  plump  little  woman  who  brings 
on  the  beverages. 

Then  the  representatives  of  rurality  and  the  two  seal- 
skin sacques,  who  live  in  furnished  rooms  on  Crosby 
street,  get  very  sociable,  indeed.  I  notice,  during  the 
evening,  that  they  keep  the  plump  waitress  busy,  and 
at  about  2  :30  a.  m.  the  four  depart  together  in  a  rather 
tipsy  but  orderly  condition. 

That  is  the  great  charm  about  Harry  Hill's  place. 
There  is  nothing  vulgar  or  obscene  said  on  the  stage,  and 
no  disorderly  conduct  is  permitted.  No  one  can  be  robbed 
there. 

He  has  a  very  miscellaneous  audience,  and  the  women 
of  the  streets  are  welcome  as  long  as  they  behave  them- 
selves. But  so  they  are  at  the  "  Alhambra  "  in  London. 
They  may  concoct  all  sorts  of  villainous  schemes  while  in 
Harry  Hill's,  but  the  watch  and  pocketbook  of  the  granger 
are  safe  while  he  remains  there.  • 

"Order  please,  gentlemen,"  shouts  a  major-domo. 
"  Take  your  partner-j  for  a  quadrille," 

There  is  an  open  space  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  where 
the  dancing  is  done.  On  the  walls  are  signs  reading, 
"  Gentlemen  will  please  not  smoke  while  dancing  1"  "  No 
lovers  wanted  !''  and  embodying  other  terse  statements. 

The  orchestra  strikes  up  and  the  quadrille  begins.  These 
girls  dance  very  nicely,  gliding  through  the  figures  with 
genuine  grace. 

Suddenly  there  is  a  crash  and  a  table  is  upset.  One  man 
has  struck  another  in  a  quarrel  about  a  girl. 

In  any  other  place  this  would  be  quite  a  little  scrim- 
mage. Glasses  would  be  thrown  about,  and  the  audience 
put  in  a  panic. 

But  not  at  Harry  Hill's.    That  ubiquitous  gentleman, 


60 


NEW    YORK'S    GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


who  has  the  frame  of  a  pugilist  in  constant  training  and 
a  grasp  of  iron,  has  already  seized  the  man  at  fault,  and 
conducted  him  to  the  stairs,  which  he  finds  it  to  his  ad- 
vantage to  descend. 

The  dancers  hardly  pause,  and  the  orchestra  goes  on 
merrily,while  the  superintendent  shouts,  "Order,  please," 
and  the  guests  settle  back  in  their  seats. 

These  little  disturbances  occur  more  or  less  frequently, 
but  like  tropical  squalls  are  soon  over. 

We  are  certainly  in  for  them  to-night.  See  that  hand- 
some girl  over  there  under  the  gallery  larruping  that 
rather  intoxicated  blonde  with  her  silk  umbrella, and  using 
language  which  cannot  be  printed. 

It's  all  about  a  lover,  who  borrowed  the  diamond  ring 
of  the  tall  woman  and  loaned  it  to  the  other.  The  dis- 
covery has  just  been  made. 

"  Where  did  you  get  that  ring? " 

"  Prettv  Jimmy  gave  it  to  me." 

"You're  a  liar." 

And  then  the  af  ray. 

Mr.  Ilill  is  again  on  hand.  "  Ladies,  ladies!"  he  says, 
"Hi  ham  hastonished.  Come,  now,  kiss  and  make  up, 
and  both  hof  you  give  Pretty  Jimmy  the  shake." 

All  this  time  the  performance  on  the  stage  has  been  in 
progress.  But  as  it  becomes  later,  and  the  audience  gets 
outside  of  increasing  quantities  of  stimulants  no  one  pays 
any  attention  to  the  histrionic  performance. 


We  sit  back  out  of  the  way  and  carelessly  watch  the 
busy  scene.  A  group  of  gamblers,  elegantly  dressed  and 
flashing  with  diamonds,  come  up  the  stairs,  and  ask  for 
'Arry. 
I  Soon  he  is  with  them  at  a  table,  drinking  champagne 
and  discussing  a  combination  pool  scheme  that  they  have 
come  to  propose  to  him. 

There's  old  Uncle  Bill  Tovee,  watching  with  delight 
somebody's  " chicken,"  and  some  one's  "mouse,"  slog- 
ging each  other  on  the  stage. 

That's  a  minister  going  down  stairs,  and  the  man  h( 
brushes  by  as  the  latter  comes  up,  is  a  big  dry -goods  mer- 
chant. 

Two  gents  with  new  mown  heads  and  pocket  handker 
chiefs  about  their  throats  drop  in  to  ask 'Arry  if  he'l 
"  'old  the  poodle  for  a  scrapping  match  in  'Oboken." 

And  so  it  goes  on.  Drinking,  dancing,  smoking,  charnn; 
and  having  a  glorious  night  of  it,  according  to  hew  yoi 
view  such  matters,  until  it  is  time  for  us  to  go. 

The  air  of  the  room  gives  one  a  headache,  and  the  coo! 
breeze  of  the  street,  as  we  pass  over  to  an  all-night  house 
for  a  toby  of  ale  and  a  golden  buck,  is  very  refreshing. 

Then  I  tell  you  Mr.  Hill  is  a  man  of  considerable  for 
tune,  that  his  reputation  for  business  integrity  is  of  the 
best,  that  he  has  a  nice  country  place  near  Flushing  and 
that  no  deserving  individual,  in  genuine  distress,  ever 
went  to  him  in  vain. 


A    PROMENADE    OK    SIXTH    AYEHUE. 


Sixth  avenue  is  now  the  Haymarket  of  New  York.  All 
it  needs  is  a  big,  brilliant  theatre  like  the  Alharabra  in 
Leicester  square,  to  turn  out  its  gorgeous  crowd  of  ladies 
f?)  and  their  attendant  swells  to  make  the  picture  com- 
plete. 

It  is  true  that  we  would  still  be  without  the  broughams 
owned  by  the  beauteous  blondes,  dainty  carriages  in  pink 
and  blue  upholstery,  that  follow  their  owners  up  and 
down  t!ie  square  until  such  time  as  a  tipsy  duke,  or  a 
newly-returned  East  Indian,  or  a  flash  American  shall 
have  been  caught  in  the  meshes  of  the  golden  hair,  or 
stabbed  by  the  coal-black  eye  of  some  "  Skittles  "  or 
"  Formosa." 

Then  it  is  away  to  the  St.  John's  wood,  or  whatever 
outskirt  place  or  pretty  villa  madame  may  have  selected 
for  her  home. 

The  consequence  is  that  Sixth  avenue,  lacking  sucb 
luxurious  tints,  is  not  by  any  means  as  elegant  a  picture 
■  as  t!ie  Haymarket.  But  it  makes  it  up  in  liveliness,  in  a 
shameless  bravado  that  is  shocking  to  the  sensibilities  of 
decent  men  and  women  who  are  forced  to  take  that 
thoroughfare  late  at  night,  say  on  returning  from  the 
theatre  or  a  party. 

In  fact,  the  avenue  has  become  so  notorious  that  repu 
table  citizens,  who  are  posted  as  to  its  midnight  peculiari 
ties,  much  prefer  the  partial  security  of  the  street  car. 

■  ncy  cannot  go  a-foot  in  Sixth  avenue  at  night,  in 
i'i  it  portion  of  it,  to  be  more  explicit,  which  blazes  be- 
tween 14th  street  and  Sfith  street. 

Kut  we  ore  not  fastidious  and  panoplied  with  a  con- 
sciousness of  ourown  Integrity,  and  1  >< >i< 1 1 \-  turn  from  i  nil 
street  into  Sixth  avenue,  and  commence  oar  northward 


stroll  just  as  the  thousands  of  clocks  in  the  vast  city 
begin  to  strike  the  midnight  hour. 

Only  a  few  moments  ago  we  were  in  Eighth  avenue, 
and  more  recently  still  in  "  Seventh."  What  a  contrast! 
The  other  two  were  as  silent  and  as  eminently  proper 
as  the  tomb  when  compared  with  this  noisy,  babbling 
road,  with  its  demon  trains  crashing  by  overhead,  leav- 
ing a  kaleidoscopic  flash  behind,  a«d  its  throng  of  pedes- 
trians continually  passing  and  repassing  the  brilliantly 
illuminated  shops. 

The  first  thing  to  attract  attention  is  the  number  of 
young  girls,  the  unfortunates,  who  brazenly  ply  their 
calling  iu  the  best  advertised  police  precinct  in  the  city. 

They  are  loudly  dressed;  gay  feathers  stream  from 
their  rakish  hats,  and  their  high-heeled  boots  make  con- 
stant music  upon  the  pavement  as  they  walk.  In  the 
glare  of  the  lamps  you  detect  the  rouge,  the  enamel,  and 
the  dark  penciling  at  the  corners  of  the  eyes. 

These  women  are  natural  actresses.  They  know  just 
where  abandon  on  the  street  should  stop.  Many  are 
French;  cannot  speak  a  word  of  English  except  "you 
treat  me,"  "  goddam  "  and  "  fife  dollar." 

In  fact,  it  is  only  a  step  to  Paris.  Wo  turn  off  into  a 
narrow  street  less  than  a  block  long,  between  Sixth  avenue 
and  Broadway,  and  wo  are  at  a  famous  drinking  and 
dining  saloon  known  as  the  "  French  Madame's." 

She  used  to  keep  a  taUt  d'hote  in  Sixth  avenue,  near 
Twenty- Fourth  street.  She  still  sets  a  dollar  dinner,  and  a 
very  good  one  it  is. 

At  all  the  tables  you  will  find  girls  whom  you  have  seen 
on  the  avenue,  Or  W  ill  meet  again  before  the  morn  begins 
to  blush  for  the  follies  of  the  night 


NEW    YORK'S    GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


01 


They  drink,  absinthe,  ponies  of  cognac,  and  smoke 
cigarettes.  That  pretty  black-eyed  girl  is  showing  her 
cavalier  how  the  delicate  paper  should  be  rolled.  We 
order  black  coffee,  and  look  on.  Here  comes  the  ma- 
dame. 

"  Bon  soir,  messieurs,"  and  she  goes  to  her  desk  to  dive 
into  her  accounts. 

All  is  quiet  and  decorous  here.  For  noise,  bustle  and 
fighting  we  must  go  back  to  the  American  saloons  on  the 
avenue.  There  are  supper  rooms  up-stairs  at  the  'ma- 
dame's,1' more  private.  Three  young  men  and  as  many 
stylishly-dressed  women  get  from  two  carriages  at  the 
door  and  ascend  to  these  apartments. 

Shortly  after,  Antoine  is  seen  taking  up  an  ice  bucket 
with  three  quart  bottles  of  "  the  widow  "  rapidly  becom- 
ing frappe  in  its  embrace.  They  are  going  to  begin  on  a 
pint  a-p^ece. 

Just  as  we  rise  to  go,  there  come  from  above  sounds  of 
laughter,  of  riotous  merriment,  and  then  the  chandeliers 
tremble,  and  the  glasses  jingle  upon  the  tables.  Our  fes- 
tive friends  are  dancing.  We  overhear  Antoine  tell 
madame  that  they  are  doing  the  "  can-can  ''  like  mad. 

Madame  is  excited.  "  Mon  Dieu  !"  she  exclaims,  "it 
ees  varee  veeked— it  ees  too  early  in  the  evening  !" 

"  More  wine  for  up-stairs,  Antoine  .'    More  wine  I" 

She  looks  pacified.  The  can-can  is  not  so  bad  after 
all. 

On  the  avenue  proper  there  are  favorite  drinking  sa- 
loons and  oyster  houses  whose  clientele  are  the  birds  of  the 
night. 

The  "Strand"  and  "Star  and  Garter"  are  sample 
places.  There  used  to  be  an  all-night  house  called  "  The 
London,"  but  it  is  no  more.  In  resorts  like  the  "  Strand," 
you  see  the  rough,  intoxicated  elements  of  Sixth  avenue. 
Girls  lounge  about  in  the  midst  of  the  smoke,  do  not  hesi- 
tate to  sit  on  the  laps  of  gentlemen,  and  are  always  ready 
for  one  of  the  foaming  glasses  of  beer  which  are  pyra- 
midally carried  about  by  the  ubiquitous  waiters. 

There  are  many  young  men  here  being  ruined.  While 
we  look  on  an  episode  occurs  that  illuminates  the  whole 
subject  as  a  flash  of  lishtning  does  a  gloomy  wood. 

At  one  of  the  tables  has  been  sitting  with  two  girls  of 
the  town  a  handsome  boy  of  about  eighteen  years.  The 
rose  of  health  is  still  on  his  cheek,  and  although  the  gin 
and  water  that  he  has  been  drinking  have  given  his  eyes 


a  false  lustre,  you  can  easily  see  that  he  hasn't  gone  far 
on  the  road.  His  vital  organs  are  healthy.  How  about 
his  moral  tone  ? 

Directly  back  of  him  sits  a  silent  and  apparently  ab- 
stracted individual  who  has  gone  to  such  depths  in  a 
brown  study  that  the  glass  of  beer  before  him  is  as  yet 
untasted,  although  it  has  been  there  ten  minutes. 

The  youth  gives  the  waiter  a  twenty-dollar  bill,  and  his 
companions  exchange  glances.  Just  as  the  proprietor 
thrusts  it  into  the  drawer,  the  detective,  for  the  ab- 
stracted man  was  none  other,  reaches  over  the  bar,  utters 
a  few  words,  and  takes  the  note  to  examine  it. 

His  suspicions  are  correct.  It  is  a  marked  bill,  marked 
that  day  in  the  down-town  office  where  the  unfortunate 
boy  is  employed. 

It  is  quite  a  tableau  when  tha  arrest  is  made.  He  turns 
pale  as  a  ghost,  and  then  goes  out  with  an  attempt  at 
bravery  and  carelessness  that  is  pitiable  to  behold. 

As  for  the  women,  in  ten  minutes  they  are  drinking 
more  beer  at  the  expense  of  some  one  else. 

At  about  2  a.  m.  the  avenue  is  not  so  crowded  as  at  mid- 
night, but  its  life  is  more  intense.  The  old  "  Argyle 
Rooms,"  "Cremorne  "  and  "Buckingham"  have  vomited 
forth  their  crowds  of  dancers.  Tbey  flood  the  oyster 
saloons  and  fill  beer  shops  with  the  rustle  of  silken 
skirts. 

In  one  beer  saloon  a  negro  band  is  in  full  blast.  When 
they  stop  to  pass  around  the  hand,  a  tipsy  young  woman, 
bantered  to  it  by  her  companions,  goes  to  the  piano  and 
sings  "  In  the  Sweet  Bye-and-Bye." 

It  is  a  strange,  sad  scene.  She  is  handsome,  but  unde- 
niably drunk.  Her  hair  is  dishevelled.  As  she  sings, 
being  at  the  maudlin  state  of  drinking,  the  song  over- 
masters her  with  its  pathos,  and  she  breaks  off  abruptly 
to  begin  to  cry. 

At  this  the  "lovers,"  petty  gamblers  and  "strikers," 
generally  break  into  a  coarse  laugh. 

The  poor  girl  falls  sobbing  with  her  head  on  the  table, 
robbed  even  of  the  sympathy  of  her  drunken  companions, 
while  the  "  nrrger  "  band  squares  matters  with  the  audi 
enco  by  giving  "  I've  Just  Been  Down  to  the  Club,  Dear." 

Although  it  is  time  to  go  home— you  can  always  tell 
that  when  they  refuse  to  tap  a  fresh  keg— we  have  by  no 
means  exhausted  Sixth  avenue. 

Au  revoir  then  until  we  resume  its  exploration 


ON    THE    BLAZING    BOWERY. 


We  will  pay  obeisance  to  that  variety  which  is  the 
spice  of  life,  and  not  continue  our  Sixth  avenue  prome- 
nade to-night. 

Although,  as  I  have  said,  itis  a  rare,  richmine  of  metro- 
politan sensationalism,  we  did  but  graze  its  surface,  and 
yet  we  saw  a  good  deal  of  the  vice  and  vagaries  of  our 
fellow-beings. 

Next  week,  or  the  next,  we  will  return  to  these  pre- 
serves and  flush  more  game.  But  to-night  I  where  shall 
we  goT 

What  say  you  to  the  Bowery?  It  is  one  of  New  York's 
representative  streets,  and  is  always  interesting.  Broad- 
way !  Fifth  avenue  I  the  Bowery /  —  those  are  terms 
familiar  to  thousands  who  have  never  seen  America. 

The  Bowery  it  shall  be.    Crossing  Broadway  at  Eighth 


street  we  notice  that  that  monster  thoroughfare  is  in  a 
doze.  Nothing  is  heard  but  the  rattle  of  the  wheels  of 
the  last  stages  as  they  forge  along  with  their  blinking 
lights.  Cabmen  lay  around  the  Sinclair  House  and  "  Mike 
Murray's"  place,  and  scan  the  street  up  and  down  with 
the  fond  idea  of  catching  a  "  drunk,"  or  some  one  who  has 
conceived  the  plan  of  making  a  night  of  it.  Broadway 
below  Fourteenth  street  is  dead  after  midnight.  We  leave 
it  willingly  and  turn  into  the  Bowery  around  the  corner  of 
the  Cooper  Union. 

It  is  another  city.  The  first  block  we  see  is  nothing  but 
a  string  of  gin-mills,  with  a  bank  and  a  drug  store  thrown 
in  to  break  the  monotony.  The  cellars  are  eating  houses 
—all-night  places,  whose  lights  stream  up  to  mix  in 
splendor  with  those  radiating  from  the  bars. 


02 


NEW    YORK'S     GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


Let  us  go  in  to  one  of  the  first  so-called  hotels  that  we 
meet  We  will  have  beer;  always  beer  or  Rhine  wine  in 
these  places.  This  establishment  never  closes  its  eyes. 
The  young  man  behind  the  bar  is  as  fresh  as  a  daisy,  and 
should  be,  because  he  has  just  come  on.  But  what  trade 
do  they  have?  Plenty  of  trade.  The  men  in  the  Tompkins 
Market  must  have  their  periodical  drinks;  so  must  the 
policeman.  Up  to  2  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  business 
is  but  a  continuation  of  that  of  the  day.  Between  2  and  5 
o'clock  the  early  workers,  dealers  in  newspapers,  young 
men  who  went  to  bed  at  midnight,  hot  with  rum,  and 
couldn't  sleep— they  come  in  for  their  drams. 

On  a  couple  of  chairs,  heads  sprawled  upon  the  beer- 
stained  tables,  are  customers  who  could  no  more  go  home 
than  fly.  The  bar-tender  shakes  snores  and  drunks  out  of 
them  and  returns  disgusted  to  his  work. 

Suddenly  the  bell  at  the  side  door  rings.  Were  we  out- 
side we  would  see  a  gentleman  and  lady  standing  in  the 
entry.  The  lady  has  her  veil  down,  altho'  the  precaution 
is  unnecessary,  since  the  gas  is  turned  so  low  that  it  seems 
*a  mere  speck  of  red  in  the  luridly  tinted  globe. 

By  the  operation  of  an  electric  bell,  manipulated  on  the 
platform  up-stairs,  the  door  flies  open.  The  couple  enter 
and  ascend  to  the  first  landing,  where,  in  an  ante-room 
filled  with  bottles  and  dishes,  stands  a  servant  who  knows 
his  business.  He  is  a  combination  of  politeness,  suavity 
and  silence. 
The  couple  desire  a  supper  room. 
"  Certainly.    Step  this  way." 

And  he  glides  down  a  long  hall,  filled  with  the  murmur 
of  conversation  from  rooms  on  either  side,  until  he  comes 
to  No.  10.  There  is  the  flash  of  a  match,  and  a  neat  apart- 
ment; furnished  with  table,  chairs  and  a  lounge,  is  re- 
vealed. 

We  don't  see  any  of  this,  but  we  hear  the  order  for  oys- 
ters, salad  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  which  are  consumed  in 
No.  10.  [sometimes  the  wine  has  a  marvelous  effect  upon 
the  silent,  timid,  hesitating  woman  who  was  so  closely 
veiled  at  the  street  door.  She  talks  in  a  loud  voice;  she 
sings.  It  is  not  the  strangest  thing  in  the  world  even  for 
the  couple  in  the  adjoining  snpper  room  to  join  in  the 
fun  and  eventually  to  propose  making  it  all  one  party. 

In  this  very  house  that  I  am  describing  such  a  thing  oc- 
curred but  recentl}7  and  with  the  most  unlooked-for  re- 
sults. Both  ladies  were  under  the  influence  of  drink,  or 
it  would  not  have  happened.  Their  voices,  in  the  pre- 
liminary conversation,  were  husky,  thick,  unrecognizable 
to  each  other. 

But  not  so  their  faces  when  the  invitation  to  coalesce 
was  accepted  and  one  tipsy  couple  burst  into  the  supper 
room  of  the  other. 

"My  God,  Fanny !  " 

"Vim  here  !  Hattie ! '' 

Imagine  the  scene.    These  two,  respectable(!),  married 


ladies,  discovering  each  other  in  situations  which  make 
the  life  of  such  plays  as  "Champagne  and  Oysters,"  "For- 
bidden Fruit,"  ani  the  like. 

The  frozen  attitude  of  astonishment,  the  bottles  and 
glasses,  the  bewilderment  of  the  gentlemen,  and  the  final 
compromise  and  treaty  of  war  over  more  wine. 

As  we  go  down  the  Bowery  becomes  a  succession  of 
beer  gardens,  huge,  brilliantly  illuminated  places,  with 
an  army  of  waiters,  and  a  stage  at  one  end  on  which  ap- 
pear variety  actors.    The  dramatic  part  of  the  bill  is  not 
j  of  a  very  high  order,  but  we  don't  expect  it  to  be. 

Let  us  sit  here.  The  waiter  plants  down  two  glasses  of 
beer  and  waits  for  the  money.  There  is  no  disgusting  for- 
mality of  asking  you  what  you  want  in  these  places. 
Beer  is  a  fixed  fact. 

Who  is  that  young  lady  in  the  seal-skin  sacque  who  has 
just  sank  into  a  seat  ahead  of  us,  only  to  be  surrounded 
by  about  six  fast-looking  young  men,  who  almost  fight  in 
their  eagerness  to  treat  her  ? 

"Make  it  a  schooner,  Max,"  she  says  to  the  waiter  in  a 
tone  of  easy  familiarity;  "I'm  as  thirsty  as  the  devil." 
Then  she  unbuttons  her  seal-skin,  leans  back,  puts  her 
feet  on  a  chair  opposite,  and  wipes  the  perspiration  and 
paint  from  her  hard,  brazened  face. 
"Who  is  she  Max?  "  "Her  ?  oh,  she's  the  gal  the  man 
'  chucks  the  knives  at.    Want  to  know  her  ?  "    "No,  thank 

you." 
|      So  we  are  in  the  society  of  a  beer  garden  queen.    She  is 
holding  her  regular  court.    Her  knife-thrower  is  on  in 
the  pantomime,  and  she  has  to  wait  for  him. 

The  running  of  the  cars  all  night  keeps  the  Bowery  alive. 
Some  of  those  that  come  down  from  Harlem  have  regular 
gangs  of  pirates  on  board,  drunken  men  and  women  who 
fight,  throw  the  conductor  and  driver  off,  sma.-h  the  win- 
dows, and  yell  murder.  This  is  especially  so  in  the  sum- 
mer time  when  moonlight  picnics  are  in  full  blast.  I 
would  as  leave  be  on  a  slave  ship,  where  the  crew  all 
wear  red  shirts,  as  ride  in  some  of  the  Bowery  streetcars 
in  the  hours  along  towards  morning. 

Approaching  Chatham  square  the  Bowery  becomes 
more  degraded.  It  has  any  quantity  of  all-night  saloons 
in  cellars,  which  are  veritable  entrances  to  Hades. 
Look  at  the  painted,  gaudily-be-ribboned  hag, cajoling  the 
honest  sailor,  who  is  very  drunk,  into  entering  one  of 
these  hells. 

He  stumbles  against  the  door,  behind  whose  crimson 
curtain  the  gas  blazes,  and  as  it  is  burst  open,  we  see  a 
monstrous,  bloated  woman  in  the  bar,  and  live  or  six  be- 
dizened females  in  tawdry  Turkish  costumes,  making 
love  to  as  many  drunken  individuals,  while  a  young  man 
in  a  red  neck-tie  bangs  away  at  the  piano. 

The  door  closes.  Our  sailor  friend  is  swallowed  up.  It 
were  better  for  him  had  he  been  wrecked  at  sea,  and 
landed  on  a  desert  island. 


TRYING    TO    SNARE    A    SOILD    DOYK 


Sixth  avenue,  after  midnight,  has  often  been  the  scene 
of  litte  dramas,  with  the  pavement  as  the  sta^re  and  the 
street  lamp  the  substitute  for  footlights,  which  excel  in 
pathos,  in  power,  in  the  deep,  quick  insight  they  give 
into  the  depths  of  degradation  to  which  it  is  possible  for 
tinman  beings  to  descend,  which  far  excel,  I  repeat,  the 
carefully  constructed  stories  told  at  the  theatres. 


I  have  one  to  speak  of  now.  It  is  the  story  of  a  father 
foiled  in  his  attempt  to  reclaim  his  daughter  from  a  life 
of  shame.  This  oase  is  by  no  means  an  isolated  one.  If 
you  watch  the  newspapers  closely  you  will  frequently 
find  it  duplicated  in  all  its  sad  details. 

It  was  between  Twenty-eighth  and  Twenty-ninth 
streets,  and  about  1  o'clock  in  the  morning.    The  avenue 


NEW    YORK'S    GAS- LIT    LIFE. 


08 


was  very  brilliant.  The  dancing  places  had  sent  out 
squads  of  richly  dressed  habitues  to  swell  the  promenading 
throng,  already  a  rather  pretentious  one. 

Two  couples  were  approaching  each  other.  One  con- 
sisted of  an  elderly  gentleman,  erect  and  dignified  in  his 
bearing,  but  showing  to-night  the  traces  of  extreme  agita- 
tion. The  one  with  him  was  an  officer  of  the  police  in 
civilian's  dress.  As  they  walked  along  the  old  gentleman 
kept  peering  into  the  bold,  painted  faces  of  the  girls  who 
passed  him,  and  each  time  he  did  it  I  noticed  that  disap- 
pointment and  pleasure  were  equally  represented  in  the 
expression  of  his  countenance. 

He  was  afraid  to  find  what  he  was  so  anxiously  looking 
for. 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  two  couples  came.  Fate  had 
arranged  it  for  them  to  meet. 

The  other  two  were  a  young  man  and  a  bright,  pretty 
girl.  He  was  the  regular  flaneur  of  Sixth  avenue,  a  trifle 
less  rowdyish  than  the  swell  of  the  Bowery,  and  not  quite 
nobby  enough  for  a  Broadway  or  Fifth  avenue  sportsman. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  loud  style,  wore  his  immaculately 
brushed  hat  a  little  to  one  side  and  swaggered,  rather 
than  walked.  The  girl  occupied  one  of  his  arms.  With 
the  other  hand  he  kept  twirling  his  mustache,  or  arrang- 
ing his  hair,  which  was  redolent  of  bay  rum. 

The  young  woman  was  still  very  pretty,  was  fresh  and 
sparkling  even.  At  times  she  would  seem  to  shrink  back 
when  the  bolder  women  passed  her,  to  actually  recoil  at 
their  language,  but  in  another  moment  she  would  laugh 
merrily  at  something  her  companion  said  and  strive  to 
force  upon  herself  a  gayety  to  suit  the  scene. 

It  was  just  as  she  had  succeeded  in  arriving  at  a 
bravado  state  that  the  four  people  met. 

The  officer  looked  first  at  the  young  girl  when  the  old 
gentleman  signalled  to  halt,  and  then  at  the  man  by  her 
side. 

The  father  gazed  upon  his  child  and  stretched  his 
hands  out  to  her,  while  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes  and  his 
voice  quavered  so  with  long-suppressed  emotion  that  he 
could  hardly  utter  the  words  : 

"Come,  Lucy,  come  to  your  father.  All  will  be  for- 
given, my  child.  Come  with  me  home,  where  your 
mother,  your  heart-broken  mother,  awaits  you." 

She  had  shrunk  back,  and  clasped  both  her  arms  about 
the  one  of  the  scoundrel  upon  which  she  had  been  lean- 
ing. Her  form  trembled,  and  she  could  not  speak.  Her 
escort  whispered  something  in  her  ear.  The  officer  re- 
mained passive,  stern,  immobile.  It  was  not  yet  his  time 
to  act.    Finally  he  spoke. 

"Well,  young  lady,  what  is  your  decision?  Will  you  go 
quietly  with  your  father  to  the  home  you  have  been  de- 
coyed from  by  such  as  the  man  you  are  with  now,  or  shall 
I  use  the  authority  I  possess  and  arrest  you?" 

At  this  statement  the  young  man  whispered  to  the  girl 
again. 

"  You  leave  her  alone,"  the  officer  said.  "She  is  old 
enough  to  decide." 

"  I  was  just  telling  her,"  the  fellow  answered  with  a 
sneer,  "  that  she  was  old  enough  to  resist  kidnapping." 

"You  villain  1"  exclaimed  the  father,  raising  his  cane 
and  stepping  forward,  "would  you  stand  between  that 
girl  and  both  her  temporal  and  eternal  welfare  ?" 

"Softly,  Mr. ,"  the  officer  interrupted;  "there  is 


no  use  wasting  words  on  one  of  these  creatures.  If  it 
wasn't  for  the  unfortunate  girls  of  Sixth  avenue  and 
other  streets  they  would  starve." 

"  I  guess  they  pay  the  police  something,  too,  don't 
they?"  the  young  man  answered. 

No  attention  was  paid  to  this  sally.  Once  more  the 
officer  said  to  the  girl : 

"  Will  you  go  with  your  father  ?" 

"  No,  I  won't,"  she  answered,  assuming  a  hardihood  in 
tone  and  manner  that  half  a  glance  showed  to  be  thor- 
oughly foreign  to  her  nature. 

"  Then  I  will  arrest  you." 

As  the  officer  spoke  he  advanced  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
her  shoulder.  Then,  turning  to  her  companion,  he 
said  : 

"  I  would  advise  you  to  disappear.  You  can  do  nothing 
around  here  except  interfere  with  me,  and  I  don't  want 
to  be  put  to  the  disgusting  necessity  of  taking  you  in. 
Some  of  the  other  young  women  will  see  to  it  that  you 
get  your  usual  quantity  of  rum." 

The  young  woman  resisted  at  first,  and  then  became 
mildly  hysterical.  The  father  insisted  upon  a  carriage. 
I  knew  the  precinct  to  which  they  would  go  and  so  has- 
tened there,  anxious  to  see  another  act  in  the  play. 

In  the  station-house  she  displayed  a  sullen  resistance  to 
all  influences  working  for  her  good.  She  positively  re- 
fused to  her  home  with  her  father,  and  still  she  was  old 
enough  to  act  as  her  own  guardian,  it  was  easy  to  see 
what  the  result  would  be  in  the  courts.  The  father  plead 
again,  the  tears  coursing  down  his  cheeks.  She  stood  at 
the  end  of  the  desk,  as  cold,  as  beautiful  as  ice.  The  fresh 
young  face  seemed  to  have  turned  to  carved  stone.  The 
officer  who  made  the  arrest  on  a  regular  issued  warrant, 
lit  a  cigar  and  smoked  it  with  positive  enjoyment.  The 
sergeant  in  charge  wrote  in  his  blotter  with  the  imper- 
turbability of  a  shipping  clerk.  It  was  a  peculiar  scene. 
The  gas-jets  flared  on  the  group,  and  penetrated  to  a  mur- 
ky corridor  beyond,  where  in  one  of  the  cells  an  intoxi- 
cated woman  raved  and  swore  in  a  manner  to  make  the 
blood  of  a  pirate  turn  cold. 

I  sat  back  against  the  wall  in  one  of  the  chairs,  and 
wondered  how  long  it  would  be  before  the  handsome 
woman  at  the  desk,  the  one  who  had  but  just  started  on 
the  downward  path,  would  arrive  at  that  stage  of  degra- 
dation. 

There  is  nothing  but  herself  to  stop  her.  It  has  already 
been  tested  in  the  courts.  She  is  her  own  mistress  and 
can  become  that  of  whom  she  chooses. 

And  so  the  play  of  the  night  ended.  Exit  a  strong,, 
broken-hearted  man  to  his  carriage,  while  the  young  girl 
is  shown  to  a  cell.  The  bolt  shoots  into  its  socket,  and  it 
is  all  over. 

Whether  the  court  scene,  yet  to  be  played,  makes  or 
mars  her,  will  depend  upon  herself. 


P.  S.— I  took  the  trouble  to  drop  in  at  Jefferson  Market 
next  day  and  obtain  information  enough  for  this  para- 
graph. Her  mother  and  younger  sister  were  with  the 
father  at  the  hearing.  She  coldly  refused  to  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  them.  Naturally  she  was  discharged, 
and  Sixth  avenue  claims  her  again.  I  should  like  to  know 
the  romance  of  this  ruined  life. 


64 


XEW    YORK'S     GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


PULlLIHG  a  disorderly   house. 


I  am  free  to  confess  that  when  an  official  friend  of  mine 
extended  an  invitation  to  me  to  be  piesent  one  night  last 
week  a  I  the  pulling  of  a  disorderly  house  just  off  Sixth 
avenue,  the  brilliant  artery  whose  midnight  pulsations 
are  at  fever  heat,  that  I  accepted  with  a  feeling  akin  to 
that  of  positive  pleasure. 

Although  the  pictures  which  I  knew  would  be  unrolled 
before  me  constituted  a  familiar  pantomime,  still  there  is 
a  recurrent  excitement  about  a  police  raid  which  makes 
it  always  a  fresh  sensation. 

We  must  not  forget  either  the  charm  of  novelty.  Admir- 
able as  our  H.  P.'s  are— are  they  not  called  the  finest  force 
in  the  world  ?— they  do  not  indulge  in  raids  to  that  extent 
where  it  would  become  a  monotonous  proceeding.  There 
was  extraordinary  reason,  of  course,  but  I  did  not  ask  it. 
I  went  on  the  "  Pinafore  "  principle  of  "never  mind  the 
why  or  wherefore,"  and  now  that  the  affair  is  over  I  am 
no  wiser  as  to  its  animus  than  I  was  before.  And 
why  should  I  be?  Am  I  not  told  that  my  mission 
is  to  bag  picturesque  folly  as  it  flies,  and  that  in  wan- 
dering through  New  York  at  the  hour  when  graveyards 
gape  and  yawn  as  the  Ohio  resurrectionist  slingshis  spade 
on  the  coffin  and  scores  a  trick,  I  shall  regard  the  artistic 
side  of  every  situation  before  considering  the  moral  ? 

It  was  certainly  in  this  mood  that  I  met  the  ten  or 
twelve  men  detailed  for  the  raid.  They  were  in  citizens' 
clothing,  and  looked  more  like  one  of  Talmage's  sub-slum 
committees  than  anything  else  I  could  think  of.  Our  ren- 
dezvous was  at  a  street  corner  unprovided  with  a  lamp, 
and  as  I  advanced  to  grasp  the  hand  of  the  chief  I  could 
ret  for  the  life  cf  me  disassociate  the  trip  with  a  Guy 
Fawkes  gunpowder  expedition.  I  was  introduced  in  a 
whispered  way,  and  then  given  in  charge  of  an  officer 
•K-hose  business  it  was  to  enter  the  house  legitimately,  if 
it  were  possible,  with  me  as  a  companion. 

The  others,  each  man  knowing  his  portion  of  the  detail, 
seemed  to  disappear  as  if  by  magic.    We  were  alone. 

It  wasn't  far  to  the.  spotted  establishment,  and  when  we 
arrived  there  the  abundant  hilarity  prevailing  demon- 
strated that  no  note  of  warning  had  been  sounded.  As  I 
afterwards  learned,  from  a  conversation  on  the  subject,it 
was  the  tendency  which  this  particular  mansion  had  to 
tarn  night  into  day,  and  allow  the  sun  to  gaze  in  on  orgies 
which  had  made  the  pale  moon  blush;  it  was  this  indus- 
try in  the  particular  realm  of  vice  that  had  actuated 
people  in  the  neighborhood  to  make  the  complaint. 

A  good  deal  of  wickedness  can  be  stood,  when  it  is  quiet. 
I  don't  care  if  the  man  in  the  room  next  to  me  is  a  coiner 
or  counterfeit  note  engraver,  provided  he  follows  his 
opposition-to-the-government  profession  in  a  silent  way. 
But  as  soon  as  the  casting  of  a  bad  five-cent  piece  destroys 
my  morning  nap,  then  I  will  complain  to  the  authorities. 

The  officer  rang  the  door  bell.  The  door  was  opened  a 
little  ways  by  a  negress,  and  with  the  rattling  of  a  chain 
as  an  accompaniment  It  had  been  determined  upon  be- 
tween us  thjt  wo  should  look  a  little  drunk.  I  did  my 
bait,  and  am  sure  that  I  must  have  looked  a  good  deal  im- 
becile, sufficiently  so  to  induce  the  portress  to  believe 
•  that  I  was  harmless  at  any  rate.  I  even  think  that  my 
Vacant  countenance  did  the  officer  good  service,  acting  as 
a  recommendation. 

At  any  rate  we  were  admitted. 


"  Show  the  gentlemen  into  the  little  room,  Ellen,"  came 
from  some  one  elsewhere.  "  There  is  a  party  who  wishes 
to  go  out." 

In  the  room  we  went,  and  heard  the  unsteady  steps  of 
two  or  three  men  as  they  passed  into  the  street.  Lucky 
dogs  !  Thev  were  escaping  the  doom  of  the  rest.  Their 
desire  not  to  be  seen  stamped  them  at  once  as  those  who 
had  gilt-edged  positions  of  respectability  to  maintain  in 
in  the  day-time.    This  is  a  sad  world,  my  masters. 

And  now  we  are  in  the  parlor.  A  perfect  blaze  of  light, 
a  swathe  of  warm  coloring  upon  the  walls  where  the 
pictures  hung.  The  communicating  rooms  were  fur- 
nished magnificently,  albeit  in  the  vulgar,  rococo  style 
that  you  read  about  in  the  long  accounts  of  the  sale  by 
auction  in  Paris  of  the  books,  furniture  and  articles  de 
vertu  of  some  successful  woman  of  the  half-world,  who 
has  either  gone  to  Nice  for  her  health  or  entered  a  convent. 

Three  or  four  young  men  lounged  about.  Six  or  eight 
girls,  with  their  golden  twists  of  Pompadoured  hair,  en- 
gaged them  in  vapid  conversation.  One  sang  a  senti- 
mental ballad  at  the  piano. 

To  conceal  any  embarrassment  that  might  exist, 
although  I  will  give  my  companion  credit  for  suggesting 
the  Police  Department  no  more  than  he  did  a  cathedral, 
we  ordered  a  bottle  of  wine— Hoboken  champagne,  im- 
ported on  the  James  Fisk,  Jr.,  and  sold  at  $5  the  bottle. 
The  colored  woman  brought  it. 

"  Where's  madame?"  asked  my  friend. 

"Who  wants  her?" 

This  question  located  Madame  in  a  pretty  pink  boudoir 
at  the  end  of  the  hall,  where  she  was  reclining  on  a  sofa 
reading  a  novel. 

The  gentlemen  just  came  in  want  you  to  take  a  glass  of 
wine,"  answered  the  servant. 

"  I  certainly  would  be  ungracious  not  to  accept  such  an 
invitation,"  she  replied,  as  the  stiff  rustling  of  her 
starched  skirts  declared  her  getting  up. 

"  I  hate,  however,"  she  went  on,  coming  into  the  parlor, 
"to  give  up  my  book.  The  charming  devil  of  a  hero  had 
just  escaped  from  the  myrmidons  of  the  law,  and " 

We  heard  a  whistle,  and  the  bell  rang  violently.  It  was 
the  merest  coincidence,  but  she  grasped  the  situation  im- 
mediately. 

"Gentlemen  and  ladies,"  the  officer  said,  "consider 
yourself  under  arrest." 

He  threw  back  his  coat  and  showed  his  shield. 

The  landlady,  who  had  been  all  smiles,  turned  to  a  fury 
in  an  instant. 

"  Devil  I  brute  !"  she  almost  shrieked,  and  she  threw 
the  glass,  wine  and  all,  at  the  officer's  head.  Then  she 
essayed  to  escape.  There  was  a  crash  of  glass  in  the  con- 
servatory, two  men  had  entered  in  that  way.  At  a  signal 
from  my  friend  I  opened  the  front  door,  and  the  others 
swarmed  into  the  hall.  Madame  was  still  a  tigress,  but 
a  tigress  at  bay. 

During  this  time  it  was  brilliant  chaos  in  the  parlor. 
Some  of  the  ladies  screamed,  and  one  of  the  men  showed 
fight.  The  chief  knocked  him  hown  with  his  reversed 
revolver.  He  turned  out  to  be  the  regular  bully  of  the 
place,  very  efficient  in  dealing  with  a  drunken  boy  on  a 
birthday  spree  but  hardly  equal  to  the  emergency  just 
then. 


THE    DYING    BURGLAR. 


NEW    YORK'S    GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


65 


T  he  visiting  men  were  utterly  crestfallen.  One  bad  at 
tempted  escape  by  a  back  window,  but  the  movement 
was  futile.  An  officer  was  there.  Officers  were  every- 
where. The  approach  to  the  building  had  been  as  care- 
fully executed,  as  it  had  been  planned.  For  the  nonce  the 
brilliantly  lit  apartments  were  a  series  of  mouse  traps. 

One  of  the  most  amusing  features  of  the  evening's  ex- 
perience was  the  discovery  of  a  gentleman  sound  asleep 
on  one  of  the  sofas  in  madame'sroom.  He  had  fallen 
early  in  the  evening  before  the  battery  of  bottles,  had 
gene  to  sleep  in  fancied  security,  and  was  awakened  to 
find  himself  in  the  hands  of  the  police.  I  wish  I  could  de- 
scribe the  bewilderment  of  his  countenance  as  he  sat  up 
upon  the  lounge  and  insisted  upon  another  drink.  This 
bewilderment  became  inexpressibly  absurd  when  he  saw 
the  young  women  all  dressed  for  the  street,  and  watched 
the  vindictive  way  in  which  the  proprietress  was  putting 
on  her  bonnet. 

Nothing  came  of  this  case,  at  least  nothing  that  showed 
upon  the  surface.  It  was  probably  a  visit  of  discipline, 
a  warning.    The  male  visitors  were  let  go  at  the  station 


with  a  reprimand,  inasmuch  as  no  specific  charge  wa£ 
made  against  them,  while  madame  was  required  to  fur- 
nish  financial  security  for  her  appearance  at  court.  She 
had  no  difficulty  in  doing  that,  and  when  the  business 
was  transacted,  she  and  her  brood  were  allowed  to  go 
their  way.  The  house  has  been  so  quiet  since,  you  might 
imagine  a  sexton  lived  there. 

As  the  now  gay  and  dtbonnair  throng  passed  out  the  col- 
ored woman  came  up  to  me  and  said  : 

"Who  pays  for  that  bottle  of  wine?1" 

Madame  heard  the  remark. 

"  Never  mind  the  wine,"  she  exclaimed,  "the  gentle- 
men's company  was  recompense  enough.  I  have  to  thank 
them  for  infusing  life  into  an  otherwise  stupid  night." 

As  these  words  were  uttered,  she  flashed  one  glance 
upon  my  companion  in  the  visit  and  myself  that  con- 
tained as  many  daggers  as  you  would  probably  find  in  an 
Italian  wholesale  hardware  store.  Then  she  swept 
proudly  to  the  door,  rustling  and  roaring  like  a  silken 
tornado. 


ADVENTURES    IE    WATER    STREET, 


Dr.  Elisha  Harris,  late  Registrar  of  Vital  Statistics  in 
this  city,  and  now  Secretary  of  the  Prison  Association  of 
New  York,  made  a  special  study  of  mysterious  cases  of 
supposed  suicide  for  years,  and  in  a  conversation  with 
the  writer  declared  his  belief  that  a  large  proportion  of 
the  cases  of  mysterious  deaths  that  go  on  the  records  of 
the  city  as  suicides  were  really  skillf  ully  planned  murders 
by  gangs  of  men  and  women  who  make  murder  and  rob- 
bery a  business. 

Along  the  streets  bordering  upon  the  river,  or  in  adja- 
cent streets,  such  as  Water  and  Cherry,  are  located  many 
vile  hells. 

Investigations  made  in  a  very  large  number  of  cases 
where  bodies  have  been  found  floating  in  the  water 
showed  that  the  victims  were  last  seen  alive  in  the  com- 
pany of  female  frequenters  of  these  hells  of  the  metropolis 
or  in  the  dance-houses.  In  most  cases  of  this  kind  no 
valuables  of  any  account  were  found  upon  the  remains 
and  rarely  any  external  injuries  were  developed  in  a 
post-mortem. 

These  facts  led  Dr.  Harris  to  the  conclusion  that  many, 
if  not  all,  had  been  inveigled  into  the  low  resorts  by 
women,  where  they  were  drugged  to  death  by  some  subtle 
poison  administered  in  liquors,  and  then,  in  the  silent 
hours  of  the  night,  the  inanimate  body,  after  being 
stripped  of  money  and  valuables,  would  be  carried  by  the 
male  murderers  to  an  adjacent  dock  and  quietly  dumped 
into  the  river.  In  due  time  the  remains  would  be  carried 
to  the  surface  and  found  by  a  boatman  or  the  river  police. 
The  deadly  drug  had  left  no  tell-tale  mark.  The  police 
would  investigate,  and  that  was  the  end  of  the  matter. 

.So  impressed  was  I  with  the  conclusions  arrived  at  by 

Dr.  Harris  that  T  communicated  with  a  personal  friend  on 

the  detective  force  my  suspicions  that  a  certain  house  in 

Water  street,  which  I  had  occasion  to  pass  as  late  as  2 

a.  m.  daily,  was  a  den  of  thieves  of  this  class.    He  readily 

m ted  to  join  me  in  an  effort  to  discover  something 

positive  regarding  the  place,  wliich  was  a  resort  of  aban- 

I    women,   sailors   and   countrymen,    with   a    bar 

led. 


One  night  at  11:30,  dressed  and  disguised  as  Jersey 

countrymen,  Detective  T.  and  I  entered  the  main  room  on 

the  floor  even  with  the  street.    In  it  were  four  or  five 

half-drunken  women  and  half-a-dozen  sailors.    In  one 

|  corner  was  a  small  bar,  presided  over  by  a  villainous- 

,  looking,  pock-marked  ex-convict,  and  in  another  corner 

|  was  a  fiddler  playing  for  the  dancers.    We  spent  money 

freely  in  treating  all  hands,  talked  about  the  price  of 

country  "  truck  "  and  the  best  market  in  which  to  sell, 

and  promised  to  go  around  nextday  after  we  had  sold  our 

produce  and  have  a  good  time  all  around,  remarking  that 

we  wanted  the  fiddler,  so  we  could  have  a  dance. 

The  convict  boss  of  this  den  chuckled  at  the  proposition 
a.id  readily  assented  to  the  further  proposition  that-no 

sailor  fellers  "  should  be  admitted  while  we  were  guests, 
as  we  weren't  used  to  "  thar  rough  ways,5'  and  wanted  to 
have  "a  clear  swarth  all  to  ourselves." 

A  little  before  noon  on  the  following  day,  well  dis- 
guised, we  entered  the  resort.  But  two  women  and  the 
proprietor  were  there,  and  an  air  of  quietude— in  striking 
contrast  to  the  boisterous  secret  of  the  previous  night- 
pervaded  the  place.  » 

Each  of  us  had  provided  ourselves  with  a  sponge,  hid- 
den away  inside  of  our  coat-sleeves,  and,  as  we  had  pre- 
viously arranged  to  drink  nothing  but  "  pony"  glasses  of 
wine,  it  was  an  easy  matter  by  a  dexterous  movement  to 
deposit  the  contents,  after  taking  it  from  the  glass,  into 
the  sponges.  My  companion  drank  freely,  or  at  least  ap- 
peared to  drink,  displayed  considerable  money,  and  after 
the  fiddler  had  been  sent  for  and  the  doors  were  locked, 
indulged  in  several  waltzes  "  between  drinks." 

An  hour  was  thus  passed,  when,  to  all  appearances,  the 
"  Jersey  farmers  "  were  "  pretty  well  fuddled,"  so  well 
had  we  simulated  intoxicated  men. 

As  our  object  was  to  see  more  of  the  premises  we  offered 
no  resistance  when  the  women  urged  us  to  retire  to  a  rear 
room.  There  more  drinks  were  called  for,  and  in  half  an 
hour  we  were  both  apparently  unconscious  in  a  dragg<  <1 
and  drunken  stupor.  The  women  retired  fro.n  tlie  room, 
which  was  dimly  lighted  by  the  kerosene  lamp,  and  we 


66 


NEW    YORK'S    GAS-LIT    LIFK 


were  left  side  by  side  on  a  mattress  in  one  corner  for 
some  time.  There  was  a  peculiar  taste  to  the  wine  that 
satisfied  us  it  contained  a  drug. 

In  a  little  while  "  Big  Charley,"  the  boss,  returned  with 
one  of  the  women,  who  passed  as  his  wife,  and,  stooping 
over  us,  he  remarked:  "I'm  blowed,  Hanna.1*  if  /hem 
fellers  isn't  good  game.  Now  you  hold  the  doo-  .1'  iioid 
the  light,  an'  the  fiddler  an'  me'll  soon  '  .way  till 

night.  They're  well  salted,  and  we^  -  .^u  at  mid- 
night, when  all's  still." 

The  fiddler  was  called,  and  we,  limp  a^  ^ip^  jrently  in- 
sensible, were  carried  down  a  rickety  stairway  to  a  sub- 
cellar  and  quietly  deposited  on  the  floor,  which  was  of 
stone.  Our  entertainers  retired,  leaving  the  lamp  burn- 
ing dimly. 

My  detective  friend  got  up  and  cautiously  explored  the 
place. 

I  confess  I  was  not  pleased  with  his  report. 

On  one  side  he  found  a  blind  door  leading  into  a  dark 
passage-way,  which,  from  the  sound  of  running  water, 
he  supposed  to  be  one  of  the  city  sewers,  through  which 
they  carried  their  victims.  I  was  so  alarmed  that  I  sug- 
gested we  had  seen  enough,  but  he  was  inexorable. 

"Lot  us  see  the  end,"  he  said.  "  We  are  well  armed  ; 
we're  enough  for  them.  Why  if  I  only  showed  my  shield 
they'd  beat  a  retreat.    Keep  quiet  and  watch  me." 

We  did  not  wait  long  in  suspense.  "Charley"  and  his 
woman  entered. 

The  former  examined  us  critically,  and,  turning  to  the 
woman,  said  :  "  You  go  up  and  tend  bar,  if  any  one  drops 
iu  ;  send  Lize  down  to  watch  the  clodhoppers,  and  have 
her  pour  a  little  more  of  the  "  stuff"  down  'em  in  half  an 
hour.  I  must  now  go  over  the  river  and  get  Bob  to  come 
over  and  help  me  plant  'em  after  we  close  in  the  morn- 
in'.» 

Again  we  were  alone. 

The  detective  whispered  his  plans  to  me,  and  a  few  min- 
utes later  the  woman  Lize  came  down  with  a  bottle  in  her 
hand,  and,  sitting  down  on  the  only  chair  in  the  cellar, 
engaged  in  the  occupation  of  knitting. 

Half  an  hour  must  have  passed— to  me  it  seemed  two 
oours— when  the  woman  picked  the  bottle  up  from  a 
melf  and  walked  deliberately  over  to  our  corner.  With 
closed  eyes  I  felt  her  warm  hand  on  my  forehead;  then 
die  turned  my  head  over,  faeo  upward,  and  forcing  open 
ny  mouth  when  my  companion,  with  a  quick  movement, 
Jirew  himself  overhand  drawing  a  pistol,  hissed,  "Ah, 


Lize  !  I've  got  you  1  Now  open  your  head,  and  I'll  blow 
it  off  your  lousy  body  I  See  this  shield  ?  Ha !  ha  !  trapped 
at  last,  eh?" 

So  sudden  was  the  thing  done  that  the  woman  crouched 
down  quietly,  as  the  detective  threw  off  a  wig,  and  she 
identified  him  as  one  who  had  twice  arrested  her  for 
shoplifting. 

To  be  brief,  the  woman  "  Lize  made  a  clean  breast  "  of 
the  fact  that  sailors  and  countrymen  were  drugged  and 
taken  to  the  sub-cellar,  where  they  were  visited  by  "  Big 
Charley,"  his  wife  and  two  men. 

What  disposition  was  made  of  the  victims  she  never 
knew,  or  professed  to  know  not.  The  officer  promised 
her  protection  if  she  would  aid  him  in  solving  the  mys- 
tery of  the  removal  of  the  drugged  victims  who  might 
visit  the  place  in  future,  at  the  same  time  warning  her 
that  he  would  have  her  watched,  and  it  would  be  useless 
for  her  to  attempt  to  flee  the  city.  It  was  also  arranged 
that  when  the  sub-cellar  again  had  an  occupant  she  was 
to  find  means  to  hang  a  white  cloth  from  the  front  win- 
dow as  a  signal,  and  at  all  events  to  meet  him  at  a  place 
appointed  a  week  hence.  She  then  released  us  through  a 
side  door. 

Daily  the  house  was  watched— no  signal.  The  try  sting 
time  arrived,  and  Lize  came  not.  Over  another  week 
passed  without  other  news  of  the  woman.  It  was  sup- 
posed she  had  escaped  the  detective's  vigilance. 

Reading  a  description  of  the  body  of  a  drowned  woman 
found  at  Fort  Hamilton,  the  detective  believed  it  was 
Lize.  He  went  there  and  recognized  her  as  the  Water 
street  woman. 

The  detective  always  maintained  that  he  believed  "  Big 
Charley  "  and  his  gang,  suspecting  Lize  of  treachery,  had 
murdered  her  and  thrown  her  body  into  the  river. 

Shortly  after  this,  my  friend,  who  still  had  the  house 
under  surveillance,  became  insane,  and  a  few  months 
later  died. 

The  Water  street  den  has  been  demolished  to  make  way 
for  the  Brooklyn  bridge,  and  the  inmates  are  scattered. 
Yet  I  still  firmly  believe  that  Dr.  Harris  was  right,  and 
that  there  still  exists  in  this  city,  under  the  very  eyes  of 
the  police,  one  or  more  organized  gangs  whose  business 
is  the  inveigling  of  strangers  into  suspicious  places,  the 
robbing  of  their  persons  and  the  consignment  of  their 
bodies  to  the  waters  of  the  rivers  and  harbor. 

Where  is  the  Vidocq  who  will  fathom  the  secrets  of 
these  malefactors? 


A   THIEVES'    TAVERN. 


1  shall  not  write  the  street  nor  the  number  of  the  house 

•i  the  street  where  the  thieves'  tavern  is  in  which  [spent 

•ling  last  week,  passing  the  midnight  line,  in  fact, 

nd  never  rising  to  leave  until  a  disreputable  clock  lie- 
ind  the  bar— a  timepiece  with  a  badfaoi — announced 

Oat  it   was  about  the    hour    \s  Ion   Peter's  Cochin  <  'hina 
joster  raised  all  that  row  in  Jerusalem. 
it  wouldn't  be  fair  in  me  to  publish  the  (Thereabouts  of 
ie  place.    I  was  the  guest  ol  the  thlevea*or  rather  oi  the 

lind    proprietor  of   the  saloon;  and  although   m\    bring 

mi. -t,  and  n, y  never  having  been  "  crooked  "  or  "  done 

in,-"  was  slightly  againsl  me,  i  was  treated  with  Bucb 

.    i  and  deference  that  I  would  be  a  desplo* 

indeed  to  repay  the  courtesy  which  made  the 


experience  possible  by  "squealing"    on  those  I  met. 

1  believe  that  they  call  It  " squealing."  I  heard  a  good 
deal  "I  Slang  that  night,  but  it  has  changed  so  of  late  years 
that  it  is  difficult  to  understand  their  jargon. 

1  went  down  a  flight  of  stone  steps  illuminated  feebly 
1  ;.  a  lamp,  and  when  I  pushed  the  door  open  I  found  my- 
self in  an  ordinary  liar-room,  with  sanded  floor,  a  short 

counter  and  five  or  six  tables,  about  which  as  many  young 
men  urn-  sitting,  two  at  cards  and  the  others  engaged  in 
s  conversation  which  ceased  v.  hen  I  entered.    I  looked 

ha>til\  around  for  a  J  OUng  thie!  w  ho  had  come  to  me  with 
astorj  ,  t    sin.'   Sing   horrors,  and  who  had  promised  to 
meet  me  at  11:80. 
It  was  1 1  A3,  and  he  was  not  present. 


NEW    YORK'S    GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


"  Who's  that?"  said  the  short,  thick-set,  blind  proprie- 
tor, leaning  over  his  bar  as  his  abnormally  acute  ears  de- 
tected the  presence  of  a  stranger. 

As  he  spoke  one  of  the  young  men  rose,  sauntered  to  the 
door  and  went  out  quietly. 

The  situation  was  an  awkward  one.  I  was  considered 
either  a  spy  or  a  stranger.  In  any  event  I  was  fair  game. 
So  I  spoke  out  boldly,  telling  them  in  as  many  words 
that  I  was  a  "literary  cuss,''  and  that  I  had  an  appoint- 
ment with  "  Box-Stew  Charley."  Then  I  asked  the  house 
to  drink.  Another  young  man  silently  disappeared  and 
brought  back  the  first  one,  who  had  assumed  the  position 
and  duties  of  a  sentinel. 

It  wasn't  long  before  my  friend  arrived,  and  then  we 
were  all  en  rapport.  He  told  them  that  I  was  acquainted 
with  the  character  of  the  rendezvous,  that  I  was  a  gentle- 
man despite  the  fact  of  my  never  having  been  in  jail,  and 
that  thej'  could  talk  unreservedly  before  me. 

Which  I  am  certain  they  proceeded  to  do  in  a  most 
agreeable  manner.  Charley,  having  been  the  latest  up 
the  river,  was  naturally  the  chief  spokesman.  He  was 
eagerly  questioned  as  to  how  this  and  that  was  getting 
along.  He  had  plenty  of  messages  to  deliver,  one  especial- 
ly from  a  burglar  to  his  wife. 

"I  told  her  to  be  here  at  midnight,"  said  a  red-headed 
youth  who  had  been  instructed  to  acquaint  the  woman 
with  the  circumstance  of  Charley's  arrival  within  the 
realms  of  ordinary  society. 

"  And  here  she  is,"  said  the  blind  man.  "  I  know  Kate's 
step." 

A  pretty  woman  and  elegantly  dressed,  may  it  please 
you,  this  wife  of  a  honsebre;  .s  bade  good 

evening,  and  had  a  smile  for  every  one  until  her  eyes 
rested  on  me.    Th<  i  1  a  look  of  keen  inquiry. 

No  one  spoke,  but  Borne  one  must  have  reassured  her 
facially  that  everything  wasO.  K  .for  she  sank  uncon- 
cernedly into  a  chair,  and  said  she  didn't  mind  if  she  did 
have  a  wet  of  gin.  :  n.-and 

particularly  Whitechapcl. 

"Jim's  all  right,"  said  Charlev,  "  and  sends  his  love,  of 
course.  He  expects  you  up  en  next  visiting  day.  And 
there's  an  order  for  the  'kit'  of  tools  lie  hail  made  in 
Canada.  I'm  to  have  them,  and  the  plan  of  that  house  in 
110th  street.    If  I  do  the  thing,  you're  to  divvy." 

"  All  right,  Charley,"  the  pretty  woman  replied.  "  I'll 
send  them  here." 

This  little  bit  of  business  disposed  of,  we  all  drifted  into 
the  most  agreeable  conversation,  which  was  shortly  in- 
terrupted by  the  arrival  of  an  excited  young  man.  It  was 
telegraphed  to  him  instantly,  also,  that  I  was  not  in  the 
way. 

"  I've  got '  Big  Moll '  in  a  coach  around  the  corner.  She's 
lust  over  from  the  Kings  County  Jail,  and  she  wants  her 
sparklers.'    Pop,  you've  got  'em,  she  says." 

"Yes,  I've  got  'em,  and  she  owes  twenty-two  dollars 
bar  hill  on  them,"  the  old  man  growled. 

"Don't  you  be  afraid  about  the*  sugar;'  she's  fixed.  I 
came  in  to  see  if  the  coast  was  clear.  She  mustn't  meet 
Patsy  or  she'll  put  a  knife  in  him." 

"He's  in  the  hospital,"  one  of  the  party  remarked, 
"getting  his  legs  in  condition  to  stand  up  for  trial  in  the 
.'  Sessions." 

With  this  satisfactory  information  regarding  the  doleful 
whereabouts  of  Patsy,  the  courier  of  "  Big  Moll"  depart- 


ed, and  soon  returned  with  that  lady  herself.  She  proved 
to  be  a  big,  bold,  dashing  woman,  showing  no  traces  of  re- 
cent prison  life.  She  was  also  dressed  expensively,  and 
was  slightly  drunk.  Pulling  out  a  roll  of  bills  from  her 
bosom,  she  insisted  upon  all  of  us  standing  up  to  the  bar 
and  indulging  in  champagne,  which  we  drank  out  of  tum- 
blers. Jim's  wife,  who  had  been  missing  no  tricks  while 
the  gin  bottle  circulated,  was  also  made  very  merry  by 
the  champagne. 

The  diamond  earrings  and  breastpin  were  produced  on 
liquidation  of  the  old  bill,  and  adjusted  in  Moll's  ears  and 
at  her  throat  by  the  other  woman.  She  insisted  upon  hav- 
ing a  looking-glass  hunted  up  so  that  she  could  survey  her 
magnificence,  which  seemed  to  give  her  infinite  satisfae 
tion.  It  was  like  a  scene  from  the  "Beggars' Opera.'' 
The  old  man  held  the  glass,  Moll  swaggered  before  it,  and 
all  the  rest  of  us,  tumblers  in  hand,  grouped  ourselves 
about  the  central  figure.  I  didn't  feel  precisely  like  a 
footpad,  but  the  sensation  was  a  strange  one.  Where  did 
she  get  her  money  so  soon  ?  How  about  the  j  ewels  ?  These 
questions  I  asked  "  Box-Stew  Charley." 

"  Moll  always  has  money,"  he  answered,  "  or  knows 
where  to  go  and  get  a  hundred  or  so  at  any  time.  She's  on 
a  little  drunk  now,  celebrating  her  release  after  doing  ten 
months,  but  she's  a  sharp  business  woman  all  the  same, 
and  when  she  s  flush  she  puts  some  by.  The  diamonds 
were  given  to  her  by  a  man  who's  dead  now.  They  were 
stolen  in  Paris." 

"  What  is  the  lady's  particular  line  ?" 

"Shehasn'tany  unless  it's  shoplifting,  at  which  she's 
very 'fly.'  But  she  can't  do  much  in  New  York.  They 
know  her.  She  travels  a  good  deal,  is  a  kind  of  roper-in 
for  diamond  sharps,  and  big  jobs  like  that." 

A  long,  low  whistle.    Instantly  the  blind  man  turned 

down  the  gas,  and  we  sat  in  gloom.    Some  one  descended 

■  sand  knocked  significantly  at  the  door,  which 

had  been  locked  after  Moll's  arrival  and  out  of  deference 

to  the  lateness  of  the  hour. 

A  conversation  between  the  boss  and  the  one  outside,  a 
conversation  which  I  could  not  follow,  took  place,  and 
then  the  newcomer  was  admitted.  It  was  something  im- 
portant and  mysterious  at  the  same  time.  There  was 
silence  after  a  short  talk,  and  I  could  hear  the  retreating 
footsteps  of  the  man  outside.  Tho  door  remained  open, 
for  the  cold  wind  blew  in  perceptibly.  Footsteps  return- 
Log.  They  came  down  toward  the  saloon  as  if  it  were  one 
man  leading  another.  Such  in  fact  was  the  case,  for  when 
they  had  entered,  the  door  had  been  securely  barred,  and 
the  light  turned  up  slightly,  we  saw  that  two  men  had 
been  added  to  the  company. 

One  was  deathly  pale,  and  on  his  shirt  front  was  an  area 
of  crimson  stain  which  located  a  gun-shot  wound.  His 
companion  put  him  into  a  chair  and  asked  for  brandy. 

I  saw  that  this  was  a  case  which  explained  itself,  and  I 
did  not  ask  about  it.  Some  one  had  been  shot  in  the  com- 
mission of  a  crime  and  had  escaped. 

When  I  left,  both  Jim's  wife  and  "Big  Moll "  were 
doing  all  they  could  to  stanch  the  flow  of  blood  with  their 
lace  handkerchiefs  against  the  arriral  of  a  doctor  who 
had  been  sent  for. 

"And  do  you  have  a  physician  and  surgeon?"  1  whis- 
pered to  Charley. 

"  Couldn't  do  without  one.  He's  a  good  one,  too.  Did 
three  years  for  malpractice." 


f,s 


NEW    YORK'S    QAS-LIT    LIFE. 


FIYE    CENT    LODGING    HOUSES. 


It  was  my  good,  bad,  or  indifferent  fortune  once  to  sit 
up  -with  a  friend  all  night  in  a  cheap  lodging  house  in 
London.  We  did  it  out  of  the  merest  curiosity  and  would 
not  have  been  there  even  to  gratify  that  curiosity  had 
not  the  proprietor,  Mr.  Jno.  White,  who  euphinistically 
called  his  den  "  The  Workingmen's  Retreat,"  been  under 
obligations  to  my  companion. 

Mr.  White's  place  was  called  in  the  slang  of  the  thieves 
and  coster  mongers  who  frequented  it,  a  "  thripenny 
doss,"' the  word  "doss"  being  gypsy  talk  for  bed.  The 
experience  was  a  very  peculiar  one,  such  an  experience 
which  one  seldom  cares  to  repeat,  except  in  the  line  of 
duty.  All  night  long  we  beheld  the  spectacle  of  drunken 
men  and  women  staggering  into  the  place,  slamming 
down  their  three  coppers  with  an  oath  and  then  reeling 
to  whatever  questionable  pallet  John  White  chose  to 
allot  them. 

But  repulsive  as  the  place  was  my  memory  reproduces 
it  as  a  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  in  comparison  with  the  estab- 
lishment which  your  artist  and  myself  investigated  a  few 
nights  back,  one  of  those  nights  with  a  snappish  cold 
spirit  abroad  that  prevented  much  luxury  attaching  itself 
to  slumbering  in  an  alley  or  cart. 

Cherry  street  boasts  the  possession  of  the  particular 
five  cent  lodging  crib  under  consideration.  Cherry 
street  has  a  good  many  of  them,  but  I  think  that  the  one 
we  decided  upon  is  the  most  unique. 

I  will  back  the  landladj'  against  the  proprietor  or  pro- 
prietress of  any  of  the  others  for  being  the  most  pictur- 
esquely bestial  woman  in  the  business.  As  she  sat  just 
inside  the  door  of  the  sleeping  room— it  was  not  in  the 
cellar  but  gave  upon  the  rough,  cobble  stones  of  a  filthy 
court  in  the  rear  of  a  tenement— with  the  sickly  rays  of  a 
red  lamp  fastened  at  the  window  streaming  upon  her,  I 
thought  of  some  huge,  bloated  spider,  surcharged  with 
blood  to  bursting,  and  possessing  the  most  ravenous  of 
maws. 

Bhe  expected  us.  I  had  once  done  a  little  reporting  for 
a  morning  paper,  and  had  been  forced  to  visit  her  hotel 
in  quest  of  particulars  regarding  a  society  woman  who, 
being  born  in  opulence,  educated  and  married  in  social 
pride,  had  passed  through  the  lurid  phases  of  illict  love 
and  had  gin  to  be  found  dead  one  winter  morning  in  this  ] 
wretched  room. 

I  recalled  the  circumstance  to  her  when  I  visited  her 
in  the  day  tunc  to  arrange  lor  a  midnight  seance.  Bhe  re- 
membered  me,  and  although  she  could  not  understand 
why  two  human  beings  should  deliberately  seek  her 
Ln  w  inch  to  spend  an  hour  or  so,  still  Bhe 
Consented,  and  even  went  to  the  trouble  of  borrowing  two 

from  one  of  the  families  in  the  tenement. 
"Y(  ■   the   spider,   "you  won't  want  to  Bit 

dnw  a  anj  where  in  here,  although  I  do  try  to  be  verv  par 
ticular;  it  isn't  safe." 

[  ai.-o  ordered  some  gin  for  the  old  lady  from  the  dia 

tiii«  ry  on  the  street,  and  repeated  the  operation  when  we 

ibis  bad  the  effect  of  making  her  mellow. 

Mrs.  Olump,  for  suoh  is  her  name,  owns  but  ten  beds, 

or  ton  tattered  ma  mtfed  along  the  wall,  and 

-   by  allow- 
i"  than  three  to  one  mattri  i— .  it  is  easy  to  calcu- 


late that  her  night's  revenue  is  but  one  dollar  and  a  half. 
But  the  dormitory  is  never  closed.  As  the  lodgers  stagger 
out  in  the  morning  others  stagger  in.  No  one  ever  comes 
to  Mrs.  Clump's  until  he  or  she  is  dead  drunk,  and  the 

ime  of  the  visit  depends  upon  whether  the  lodger  does 
her  boozing  by  day  or  night. 

There  were  about  a  dozen  in  the  room  when  we  called. 
It  was  awful  close,  and  a  pauperish  looking  fire  in  a  stove 
made  the  atmosphere  sickening.  She  noticed  our  pale 
faces  and  opened  the  door  slightly.  This  precaution  and  a 
generous  swig  of  brandy  from  a  private  flask  enabled  us 
to  keep  up  the  tone  of  the  stomach. 

Of  the  twelve  lodgers  already  in  three  were  women. 
They  lay  in  horrid  dishabille,  two  of  them  upon  their 
backs,  their  mouths  open,  and  an  expression  of  gutter 
sottishness  upon  their  faces.  The  other  one  was  curled 
in  a  ragged  lump,  her  knees  reaching  her  frowsy  head. 
Suddenly  she  screamed  in  her  sleep— a  regular  blood-curd- 
ler  too— and  striking  out  wildly  hit  a  man  in  the  mouth 
who  lay  next  her.  As  we  subsequently  learned  it  was  her 
husband. 

The  brute  sprang  half  up  with  an  oath  and  turning 
quickly  took  her  by  the  throat  while  with  his  other  band 
he  struck  her  a  sounding  blow.  But  only  one.  Mrs. 
Clump  seized  a  club  at  the  side  of  her  chair  and  deliber- 
ately knocked  him  down  upon  his  bed  with  it  Then 
standing  over  the  human  dog,  still  brandishing  her  agent 
of  domestic  peace,  she  said  : 

"  No  one  knows  it  better  than  me.  Bill  Welch,  that  you 
will  be  hung  yet  for  killing  that  woman, but  you  sttan  t  do 
it  here.  You  touch  her  again,  and  I'll  get  one  of  the  gen- 
tlemen to  go  for  the  police." 

He  looked  up  with  a  fierce  scowl  penetrating  his  matted 
hair,  glared  a  moment  upon  us,  and  fell  back  into  his  in- 
ebriated stupor.  The  wife  was  already  asleep,  and  none 
of  the  others  had  stirred. 

"  I've  got  another  lodger,"  said  Mrs.  (Hump,  resuming 
her  seat,  "  like  the  one  one  that  died  here,  you  know." 
She  was  addressing  me  and  referring  to  the  past,  I 
nodded. 

"  She  is  going  precisely  the  same  way,  and  I  think  she 
started  the  same;  she  comes  in  about  1  o'clock,  always 
drunk,  sometimes  merry,  sometimes  wicked  and  full  of 
fight.  She  doesn't  sleep  on  these  common  mattresses,  but 
gives  me  ten  cents  for  the  one  behind  that  screen."  She 
pointed  to  an  alcove  at  whoso  entrance  floated  a  curtain. 

"And  where  is  your  home,  Mrs.  Glumpf  "  I  asked. 

"  I  have  a  lloor  in  a  street  up-town.  I  only  stay  here  at 
nights.     In  the  day  time  my  son  runs  the  place." 

Business  becomes  brisk  suddenly.  Old  bums,  shivering, 
hardly  able  to  stand  or  bold  themselves  together,  came 
through  the  glare  of  the  red  lamp,  tossed  their  niekle  or 

rallied  their  pennies  upon  tbe  little  table  on  which 
glimmered  Mrs.  Glump'S  candle,  and  after  a  vacant  si  a  n 
at  two  strangers,  who  "ere  apparently  possessed  of  no 
Intention  of  going  to  sleep  on  the  premises,  fell  like  bags 

Of  meal  upon  the  vermin-infected  beds  and   dropped  into 

"  Here  she  comes-  here  comes  Sarah  1"  said  Mrs.  •  ;. ,  in 
a  cautionary  waj  .  and  as  she  spoke  b  young  woman  who 
had  crossed  the  courtyard  with   a   song   upon   her  lips, 


<    4  + 


XEW    YORK'S     GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


69 


staggered  into  the  place,  and  straightened  in  a  moment 
when  she  saw  that  visitors  from  the  outside  world  were 
present. 

"It's only  two  friends  of  mine,  Sarah,"  said  Mrs.  G., 
"  two  gentlemen  I  used  to  know  in  England.  Go  on  with 
your  song." 

"  I  will  if  they  stand  treat,"  she  said,  "  and  they'll  have 
to  hurrv;  Mike's  about  shutting  up." 

I  took  out  a  coin,  and  held  it  indefinitely  toward  them 
both. 

'  I'll  go  for  it,"  she  said,  "  and  there's  no  change,  mind 
you."  Saying  which  she  opened  the  door  and  disap- 
peared. 

'While  she  is  after  the  gin  I  will  state  that  this  Anonyma 
is  not  handsome  now,  but  she  has  been.  She  is  notrefined 
now,  but  there  still  remains  something  of  the  grace  of 
the  drawing-room  in  her  movements  yet.  As  she  put 
down  the  bottle  on  the  table  on  her  return  and  pocketed 
my  change,  I  thought  of  Sarah  Bernhardt  selling  cups  of 
tea  in  the  French  Fair  in  London. 


!  She  took  a  terrible  drink,  as  did  Mrs.  Glump,  for  that 
I  matter,  and  then  began  to  sing  in  a  mild,  rambling  way, 
'When  other  lips,  and  other  hearts."  All  at  once  she 
ceased,  and  began  an  address,  pointing,  gesticulating 
fiercely,  and  mouthing  some  lines  from  a  play.  I  knew 
what  was  coming;  so  did  Mrs.  Glump.  Just  as  her  eyes 
set  in  the  paroxysm  of  delirium  tremens,  and  the  froth 
came  upon  her  lips,  while  the  distortion  of  despair  passed 
over  her  countenance  as  she  cowered  with  her  face  in  her 
hands,  the  lodging-house  keeper  caught  her.  and  threw 
her  upon  a  mattrass. 

At  her  suggestion  I  ran  around  to  Oak  street,  and  got 
police  aid. 

In  twenty  minutes  Sarah,  the  "unknown,"  her  shapely 
arms  in  a  straight  jacket,  rolled  upon  the  floor  of  a  padded 
cell,  and  talked  gibberish  to  the  ceiling. 

This  was  enough  for  us,  I  was  sick  at  soul  and  stomach, 
and  never  relished  the  cool  air  so  much  as  when  I  reached 
it  after  bidding  Mrs.  Glump  good  night. 


LIFE     ALONG    THE    WHARVES. 


Along  the  river  front  to-night  I  How  black  and  forbid 
ding  the  water  seems,  and  what  a  gloomy,  sullen  plash  it 
has  as  it  swirls  by  the  end  of  the  wharf  and  gurgles  among 
the  slimy  spiles  and  posts.  It  always  seems  to  me  that 
the  rivers,  both  the  East  and  North,  change  their  entire 
character  when  the  gloaming  comes  and  the  many-colored 
lights  begin  to  hover  over  the  murky  waves  like  so  many 
fantastic  insects  in  a  realm  of  diablerie.  In  daytime  the 
sunlight  kisses  the  stream  until  it  breaks  into  a  million 
smiles  of  merry  radiance.  It  dances  on  its  way  so  the  sea, 
whose  monotonous  croon  of  welcome  the  roar  of  the  great 
city  drowns. 

But  at  night  the  liver  becomes  sinister.  It  reflects  the 
character  of  the  spectral  shadows  who  pull  the  phantom 
boati  in  and  out  of  darksome  slips,  and  so  noiselessly  that 
they  are  upon  you,  have  glided  by  and  are  gone,  before 
you  have  half  realized  the  fact  of  their  existence. 

It  is  these  craft  that  the  police  patrol  keep  an  eye  of 
guardianship  upon. 

The  dark  lantern  of  the  law's  uniformed  representatives 
frequently  transform sinlo  a  Whitehall  boat  pulled  by  two 
villainous-looking  wretches  what  to  the  unpracticed  eye 
seemed  but  a  shadow.  Then  it  devolves  upon  the  gentle- 
men in  the  dogskin  caps  and  pea-jackets  to  unfold  the  pur- 
poses of  their  aquatic  prowling. 

No  particularly  honest  man  selects  midnight,  and  after, 
as  ih»  time  for  a  purely  pleasure  trip  upon  the  water.  In 
ntnr  cases  out  of  ten  all  moving  row-boats  upon  the  rivers 
at  night,  barring  the  police  craft,  contain  thieves  who 
become  murderers  when  the  occasion  demands  with  the 
celerity  with  which  the  modern  fakir  turns  a  rabbit  into 
a  nosegay. 

They  board  the  canal-boats,  sloops,  schooners  and  other 

lying  at  anchor  and  in  fancied  security,  the  object 

to  pick  up  rope,  bits  of  chain  and  anything  else  that 

can  be  cashed  by  the  junk  dealer.    If  the  captain  or  mate 

deeping  below  overhears  them,  it  takes  but  two  or  three 

muffled  strokes  to  shoot  the  robbers'  boat  into  the  safety 

afforded  by  the  darkness.    If  the  thieves  have  no  time  to 

it  is  a  d^perate  struggle  with  pistols  and 

knives.    There  isn't  a  night  that  flies  over  New  York  like 


ablack-plumagedbird  of  ill-omen  that  doesn't  chronicle 
one  or  more  of  these  desperate  encounters.  There  is 
scarcely  a  day  that  the  Morgue  does  not  receive  some 
beaten  and  battered  corpse,  carried  hither  and  thither  by 
restless  tides  until  recognition  is  impossible,  whose 
wounds  speak  eloquently  of  a  midnight  murder.  It  is 
only  a  very  small  percentage  of  these  outrages  that  are 
ever  classed  among  the  solved  mysteries  of  the  metropolis. 

It  isn't  a  comfortable  sensation,  standing  on  the  end  of 
a  pier  at  midnight,  I  must  admit  The  neighborhood 
selected  by  me  for  the  beginning  of  this  tramp  is  by  no 
means  the  most  inviting  in  the  city.  We  are  on  the  North 
River  front  at  about  Thirtieth  street,  and  are  walking 
down  toward  the  Twenty-third  street  ferry.  Huge  piles 
of  lumber  and  stone  are  on  the  piers.  Lumber  .yards  and 
gas-houses  alternate  with  blocks  of  tenement  houses, 
whose  corner  saloons  in  some  instances  keep  open  all 
night.  The  men  met  in  these  bars  are  a  peculiar  set. 
They  look  furtively  at  you  and  stop  talking  when  you 
enter t  There  isn't  one  of  them  that  couldn't  put  you  in  a 
boat  now  and  land  you,  say  at  a  special  dock  in  Comma- 
nipaw,  without  making  the  slightest  error  in  calculation. 
These  are  sea-gulls  that  fly  at  night,  and  every  inch  of  the 
river  is  known  to  them.  Standing  here  on  the  string-piece 
and  looking  out  upon  the  murmuring  waste,  I  begin  to  get 
cold  bcth  from  the  searching  wind,  which  gets  inside 
your  overcoat  in  true  pickpocket  style,  and  the  thought 
that  I  have  been  followed  from  the  saloon. 

A  knock  on  the  head,  a  quick  rifling  of  pockets,  and  a 
plunge— such  are  frequently  the  skeleton  outlines  of  many 
a  marine  drama.  Let  us  go  on  to  Twenty-third  street, 
where  the  civilization  of  the  bob-tailed  car  is  to  be  found. 

What  is  the  excitement  in  the  ferry  house  ?  Men  are 
running  to  and  fro,  and  catching  the  fever,  we  run  also. 
A  young  girl  attempted  suicide  !  Have  they  got  her ! 
Yes;  that  which  they  are  putting  upon  the  floor— tha 
damp,  sodden  bundle— that  is  she.  A  lantern's  light  i 
thrown  in  her  face  as  the  usual  remedial  processes  arv. 
resorted  to,  and  we  see  a  pretty  girl,  with  face  so  pale,  so 
wan  now,  and  eyelids,  with  their  long  lashes,  closed  over 
eyes  that  are  sunken  far  in  the  head.    The  yellow  hair  is 


XEW    TORK'S     GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


matted,  twisted,  tangled.  In  the  torn  dress  that  shows 
the  white  shoulder  we  see  the  red-line  made  by  the  boat- 
hook. 

How  did  she  do  it?  It  was  the  work  of  a  second.  The 
boat  had  just  left  the  slip,  that  same  boat  now  midway  in 
the  stream,  when  she  rushed  to  the  rear  chain,  stumbled 
over  it,  regained  her  feet,  ?aid  something  which  the  man 
who  started  to  seize  her  could  not  understand,  and  was 
gone. 

She  is  reviving.  A  flush  of  pink,  like  a  flower  amid 
snow,  warms  her  cheeks,  and  the  eye-lids  quiver.  Poor 
thing  !  She  tried  hard  to  leave  a  world  of  sin  and  suffer- 
ing, but  she  has  been  baffled.  The  boat-hook  and  the 
hastily  summoned  doctor  have  defeated  her  purpose.  In 
the  morning  she  will  be  fined  by  the  magistrate  for  acting 
in  defiance  of  the  law. 

There  are  economical  suicides,  patronizing  the  river 
front,  who  do  not  go  to  the  extravagance  of  a  ferry  fare. 
They  spring  from  the  end  of  a  wharf.  There  is  one  pier 
near  Roosevelt  street,  East  River,  that  is  quite  a  fashion- 
able resort  for  the  frail,  miserable  women  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, who  drink  the  bad  rum  of  the  cellar  dives  until 
the  ashes  of  their  brain  are  in  a  lurid  blaze  again,  and 
then  with  feverish  haste,  handicapped  by  unsteady  step, 
they  stagger  to  the  river.  There  is  always  an  officer  there 
to  lead  them  back  and  put  them  either  in  a  station  house 
cell  or  in  some  haunt  where  a  putrid,  swinish  sleep  robs 
them  of  the  spasmodic  energy  of  suicidal  purpose. 

I  actually  think  it  is  a  mistake  to  save  these  people. 
Female  denizens  of  the  down-town  East  River  front— I 
mean  those  scorbutic  specimens  whose  pimples  and  rib- 
bons are  noticeable  at  half  open  cellar  doors  on  fine  after- 
noons—are lost  to  everything.    There  is  no  reform,  either 


physical  or  moral,  possible,  and  "  making  a  hole  in  the 
drink,"  as  the  sailors  put  it,  appears  to  me  to  be  as  neat  a 
thing  as  they  can  do. 

But  let  us  go  back  to  the  North  River  for  a  moment.  We 
are  down-town  now,  below  Canal  street,  and  have  the 
good  luck  to  stumble  upon  a  garbage  scow  being  loaded. 
It  is  a  really  picturesque  scene.    Kuge  ianterns  and  flam- 
beaux throw  light  upon  the  carts  on  the  wharf,  the  scow 
in  the  river,  and  the  brown-skinned   :talians,  bending  \o 
their  work  with   hooks  and  bags,  who  are  everywhere. 
j  Young  women,  with  huge  hoops  of  gold  at  their  ears,  ami 
i  wearing  flaming  kerchiefs  about  their  necks,  assist  in  the 
i  ghoulish  picture. 

j     Although  the  river  front  is  carefmly  patrolled,  it  is  a 
i  favorite  stamping  ground  for  footpads.    Approaches  to 
the    Williamsburgh     ferry    are    particularly    infested. 
"  Help  1    Help  I    Police!    Murder!-'  are   not  infrequent 
;  sounds  of  blood-curdling  import  during  the  night.   We  car. 
;  imagine  what  nas  occurred.    The  citizen  held  under  the 
i  throat  by  one  ruffian,  while  the  pockets  are  turned  inside 
j  out  by  others.    It  is  a  matter  of  about  a  minute.    The  job 
done,  the   thieves  and   assassins   Bee,  up  dark   alleys 
through  tenement  houses  and  over  familiar  fences,  while 
the  police  find  the  stunned  and  bleeding  victim  too  inco- 
herent to  intelligibly  relate  his  grievance.    Many  of  the 
sloops  and  canal-boats  are  haunts  of  the  lawless,  all  the 
gin-mills  are  run  on  neutral  principles,  junk  dealers  are 
frequently  "femes,'' ami  too  often  the  policemen  along 
shore  find  it  convenient  not  to  interfere  with  these  little 
operations  of  the  lovers  of  darkness.   What  we  need  Is  the 
electric  light  along  both  edges  of  the  city,  and  further 
than  that,  we  need  steam  launches  for  the  river  patrol. 


STATION-HOUSE    SCENES    AND    INCIDENTS. 


Although  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  condensed  life  in 
New  York,  I  never  knew  that  an  entire  night  spent  in  the 
or  table  reception  room  of  a  station-house  would  pan 
out  so  well  in  the  matter  of  sensatienalism  and  grotesque 
incidents,  until  I  sat  up  with  a  sergeant  friend  of  mine  for 
0  e  purpose  Of  Obtaining  material  for  tlys  article. 

m  now  convinced  that  at  no  moment  is  New  York  un- 
interesting. It  is  only  necessary  to  know  where  to  look 
for  romance  to  find  it  in  regular  bonanzas. 
Tour  brigandish-looking  artist  was  on  time  at  the  ren- 
iis,  and  behind  the  fragrance  and  the  ruddy  tips  of 
two  good  cigars  we  strolled  toward  the  green  lights  of  the 
station,  balefully  throwing  an  unholy  light  across  the 
street,  and  suggesting  to  my  Imaginative  companion  the 
emerald  eyes  of  a  sea  serpent. 

All  was  quiet,  snog  and  orderly  as  we  lilted  hack  In  the 
chairs  to  which  the  sergeant  b    Lgned  us,  and  gave  our- 
up  to  the  calm  waiting  f<>r  developments.     It  was 
not  long  to  wait. 

I  AS  first  developmei.t  was  an  old  man,  a  very  old  man, 
an  exceedingly  drunk  and  terribly  dirty  old  man. 

Lrick'sday  bat  was  mashed  In,  who  bad  mud  In  bia 

hair  ami  lime  in  nil  whiskers,  and  who  presented  alto 

_■•  tin-r  the  appearance  of  having  some  from  Minnesota  on 

'  i  "blizzard."' 

M  Drunk  and  disorderly, "  said  th<  ol  Lhi.n 


climbing  a  Third  avenue  elevated  railroad  pillar.  He  said 
he  always  rea<  bed  bis  room  by  way  of  the  fire-escape 
when  he  came  home  late." 

The  ancient  gentleman  said  not  a  word  to  all  this,  lie 
blinked  at  the  lights,  at  the  sergeant,  at  us,  and  at  the 
officer  like  an  evicted  owl.    They  led  him  quietly  away 

Perhaps  live  minutes  had  elapsed,  perhaps  ten,  but  at 
any  rate  it  seemed  but  a  short  space  of  time  between  this 
tit  and  one  a  great  deal  more  tragic.  The  doorman 
of  the  corridor  on  which  the  cells  open  was  suddenly 
heard  running  and  jingling  across  the  stone  Boor,  while 
an  officer  rushed  in  from  the  rear  to  tell  the  sergeant  that 
the  woman  In  So.  i  had  committed  BUiclde. 

We  ail  sprang  to  our  feet,  the  officer  remaining  In 
charge  of  the  room,  and  sought  the  cell  Thegas-jetin 
Hi,  hall,  which  was  directly  opposite  the  door,  and  th< 
lantern  which  the  keeper  had  placed  on  the  damp  fiagsot 
Hi,  cell,  enabled  us  to  see  him  clearly  as  be  was  m  ■■,.. 
of  cutting  dow  n  the  body.    Bhe  had  maoe  a  rope  with  her 

Lned  it  to  be,  fell  into  his  arms 

he  ivily,  like  a  sack  of  m<  aL    Be  knelt  upon  the  floor  and 

i  for  his  lantern, flooding  the  somewhat  swollen 

Ith  its  light    She  was  not  dead;  far  from  it.    ■ 

irning  life  were  already  visible,  and  before  the 

been  m  at  tor  arrived  she  was  n 


NEW    YORK'S    GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


71 


ered  sufficiently  to  stand  upon  her  feet  in  the  cell,  her 
wild  eyes  flashing,  her  hair  floating  about  her  stalwart 
shoulders,  and  in  that  attitude  to  damn  to  eternal  perdi- 
tion the  man  who  had  cut  her  down  and  all  who  had 
assisted  in  her  resuscitation. 

"Now  that  you've  brought  me  back  to  this  hell  of  a 
world,"  she  went  on  in  a  blood-curdling  way,  "  there  isn't 
one  of  you  man  enough  to  get  me  a  drink  of  whisky." 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  the  grimmest  kind  of  philoso- 
phy in  the  remark.  I  mentioned  this  view  of  the  case  to 
the  sergeant,  and  although  such  things  should  not  be  told, 
I  think  that  Maggie  (her  name)  got  the  nectar  she  so  much 
desired. 

The  doorman  had  discovered  her  attempt  by  the  merest 
accident.  He  had  heard  her  kick  away  the  stool,  or  what- 
ever it  was  she  stood  upon,  and  he  recognized  the  familiar 
sound. 

"  Why,  Lord  bless  you,"  he  said,  "  'tain't  no  uncommon 
thing.  They're  at  it  all  the  time,  and  they  always  cut  up 
that  way  after  you  cut  them  down." 

This  was  the  doorman's  little  joke, 

"  Now,  here  is  something,"  said  the  sergeant, about  half 
an  hour  after,  as  we  heard  a  commotion  in  the  street. 
Ihe  doors  were  flung  wide  open,  and  four  officers  brought 
in  a  groaning  man  on  a  stretcher.  He  was  covered  with 
a  bloody  sheet.  Two  other  officers  dragged  in  his  assassin, 
hatless,  almost  coatless,  from  whose  head  the  blood  had 
been  streaming.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  thoroughly  de- 
served the  clubbing  which  he  had  evidentlj'  received.  At 
first  I  imagined  it  a  genuine  murder,  but  it  was  only  a 
severe  stabbing  case  following  a  row  in  a  corner  liquor 
saloon. 

The  New  York  Hospital  sent  an  ambulance  in  response 
to  a  telegraphic  call,  and  after  some  preliminary  medical 
attention  had  been  paid  the  injured  individual  he  was 
driven  away,  while  his  assailant,  still  defiant,  still  sug- 
gesting the  wild  beast  and  man  in  his  yawping,  barbaric 
locked  up.  The  crowd  inside  and  out  silently 
dispersed. 

The  next  to  enter  was  a  little,  nervous  woman,  dressed, 
in  black.  Her  face  was  pinched  and  wan.  Furrows  and 
tightly  drawn  lines  ran  across  the  places  on  her  cheeks 
where  once,  no  doubt,  the  roses  and  lilies  of  health 
mingled  i'i  their  pink  and  white  beauty. 

"  Well,  my  good  woman,  what  is  it?" 

II  r  voice  trembled.  ,k  I  wish  to  knew,  sir,  if  my  hus- 
band is  here." 


"  What's  your  husband's  name?" 

"  John  Carr.    He's  gone  since  Saturday." 

"  Describe  him." 

She  did  so,  minutely— photographed  him,  in  fact. 

"I  haven't  seen  or  heard  of  any  such  person,  ma'am. 
Have  you  been  to  the  Morgue  ?" 

Here  she  burst  out  crying,  answering  through  her  sobs: 
"  I  went  this  afternoon,  but  I  came  away  without  ringing 
the  bell." 

"And  why?" 

"  I  was  afraid  to." 

She  went  out  into  the  night,  into  the  glare  of  the  green 
lamps,  with  her  faded  shawl  athered  up  and  pressed  to 
her  face. 

There  were  many  ordinary  "  bums,"  "  drunks  and  dis- 
orderlies," men  and  women,  brought  in  during  the  night. 
A  respectable-looking  gentleman,  who  struck  me  as  being 
a  seedy  clergyman,  applied  for  lodging.  II  was  a  rainv, 
disagreeable  night,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  had  been  hauled 
out  of  a  pond.  At  about  3  o'clock  we  were  rewarded  by 
the  arrival  of  a  shoal  of  fantastics,  masqueraders,  who 
had  been  fighting  among  themselves  on  their  return  from 
a  ball. 

There  was  Bombastes  Furioso  charging  a  Spanish 
courtier  with  "  smashin'  "  him  in  the  nose.  The  courtier 
retorted  that  his  noble  friend  had  drawn  his  sword  on 
him. 

There  were  three  or  four  ladies  in  the  party,  as  well  as 
some  other  high-toned  dukes,  dons  and  kings,  who  had 
come  along  to  contribute  testimony  and  see  the  affair  out. 
The  ladies  were  Indian  princesses,  a  vivandiere,  and  a 
"  Little  Buttercup."  They  had  all  been  drinking,  and  the 
rain  had  so  soaked  their  fine  feathers  that  they  were  in 
reality  the  most  comical  group  1  had  ever  seen. 

There  was  nothing  very  serious  done  to  the  Furiosc 
nose,  and  since  they  showed  a  disposition  all  around  to 
make  it  Hp,  the  courtier  was  discharged.  The  fracas  had 
occurred  in  a  street  car. 

A  young  girl  found  wandering  about  aimlessly  and  ask- 
ing for  the  Boston  depot,  although  she  could  give  no  satis- 
factory account  of  why  she  left  Boston;  a  brace  of  bur- 
glars caught  in  a  Bowery  store;  a  sprinkling  of  "  bums," 
and  finally  a  young  man  in*  full  dress,  who  had  driven  of! 
with  a  milkman's  wagon,  "just  for  a  lark,  you  know," 
constituted  the  rest  of  the  arrivals  during  our  vigil. 

"  Some  nights,"  said  the  sergeant,  "  it's  not  so  stupid." 

Stupid  I 


WHAT    A    HACKMAN    SEES. 


I  know  a  very  nice  fellow  who  drives  a  hack  for  a  liv- 
ing. It  is  his  own  vehicle,  and  lie  naturally  takes  a  pride 
in  it,  as  he  does  in  his  horses,  which  are  always  neatly 

It  is  his  own  choice  that  he  works  at  night  instead  of 
daytime.  !!••  i-  something  of  a  student  of  human  charac- 
ter like  myself,  and  he  avers  that  the  pursuit  of  the  occu- 
pation is  much  more  entertaining  at  night  than  in  the 
garish,  vulgar  day. 

And  then  again  he  makes  more.    There  is  always  some 
trieity  about  people  who  take  carriages  after  mid- 
Bight,  which  is  just  as  apt  to  find   expression  in  a  liberal  j 
system  of  payment  as  in  any  other  manner. 


I  must  be  very  careful  to  explain  that  my  hackman, 
with  whom  I  have  just  had  along  talk,  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  those  disreputable  fellows  who  stand  in 
with  burglars.  He  is  an  honest  whip,  and  during  all  the 
time  that  I  have  known  and  hired  him  I  have  detected 
nothing  wrong  in  his  character.  I  first  made  his  ac- 
quaintance when  there  was  an  all-night  eating  and  drink- 
ing saloon  in  the  basement  at  Clinton  place  and  Broad- 
way.   His  hask  stood  outside. 

He  knows  all  about  the  disreputable  members  of  his 
fraternity,  however,  and  has  told  me  many  a  story  of 
their  collusion  with  thieves.  The  burglar  has  frequently 
escaped  owing  to  a  hack  being  in  a  dark  alley  ready  for 


79 


NEW    YORK'S     GAS-LIT    LIFE. 


him  to  jump  into  and  bid  defiance  to  the  pursuing  police. 
There  was  a  case  about  two  years  ago  where  a  rubber  got 
away  successfully  with  his  swag  owing  to  fleet  horses, 
and  amused  himself  furthermore  by  firing  a  revolver 
through  the  back  window  at  the  policemen. 

The  Jehu  of  my  acquaintance  haunts  the  railroad  fer- 
ries, and  generally  gets  a  fare.  One  of  the  most  myste- 
rious that  he  ever  had  he  picked  up  at  Desbrosses  street 
at  4  o'clock  in  the  morning.  She  was  a  young  girl  from 
Philadelphia  who  took  his  carriage  and  told  him  to  drive 
anywhere  until  daybreak.    She  had  no  baggage. 

"'But  it  is  cold  and  damp.  Miss.  Had  you  not  better 
stop  at  a  hotel,  or  with  some  friends?'  I  asked  her. 

"  She  looked  at  me  sadly— my  eye,  but  she  was  pretty— 
and  said:  '  I  have  no  friends.  Drive  till  the  sun  rises.  I 
will  pay  you. ' 

"  So  I  did.  I  remember  that  it  was  down  near  the  Bat- 
tery I  had  gotten  to  by  sun-up.  It  was  a  Spring  morningi 
and  the  birds  were  singing,  while  the  waves  in  the  bay 
bad  just  begun  to  glisten.  I  got  down  and  looked  in.  She 
was  dead  !  stone  dead,  with  the  revolver  still  in  her  hand 
and  a  purplish  hole  in  her  temple.  She  had  so  arranged 
a  shawl  and  her  handkerchief  that  the  blood  had  not 
soiled  my  carriage  a  bit.  If  it  had  I  would  not  have  been 
ruined,  for  she  had  pinned  a  $50  note  to  the  lace  of  the 
coach,  with  a  penciled  line  on  a  piece  of  paper,  saying  it 
was  for  me." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?" 

"  I  drove  her  to  the  Morgue,  wondering  all  the  while  how 
I  never  heard  the  report  of  the  revolver.  She  must  have 
done  it  during  the  clatter  made  by  some  market  wagons 
from  Long  Island  that  I  got  mixed  up  with.  After  leav- 
ing the  body  I  informed  the  police.  Nothing  was  found 
upon  her,  and  the  chief  of  police  in  Philadelphia  could 
get  no  trace.    They  buried  her  up  the  river." 

Cabby  tells  curious  tales  about  the  balls  at  the  Academy. 
He  says  that  he  is  frequently  told  by  the  gentleman,  after 
the  iady  is  assisted  into  the  vehicle,  to  drive  up  to  Central 
Park  at  a  walk.  He  has  then  been  requested  to  drive  to 
High  Bridge,  or  anywhere  else.  Sometimes  on  these  oc 
casions  the  most  violent  scenes  take  place,  and  one  night 
the  woman  screamed  to  him  for  assistance.  It  was  at  a 
lonely  place  on  the  Kingsbridge  road,  and  about  3  a.  m. 
Hi- halted  his  horses,  jumped  down  and  opened  the  door 
the  young  woman,  who  was  costumed  as  a  page  beneath  a 


pink  domino  and  mask,  springing  out  almost  into  his 
arms,  begging  him  to  protect  her. 

"  That  I  certainly  would.  I  then  asked  what  was  the 
matter,  but  got  no  satisfaction.  She  cried  and  he  laughed. 
It  was  easy  to  surmise,  however.  I  ordered  him  from  the 
carriage,  and  then  put  her  back,  she  telling  me  where  to 
go.  I  left  him  standing  in  the  road  in  his  full  dress  suit, 
calmly  smoking  a  cigarette  !  The  lady  lived  in  a  swell 
house  near  the  Windsor.  She  made  me  come  around  the 
next  day  and  gave  me  $10,  although  I  had  been  paid  for 
the  night's  work  by  the  Lothario  in  the  dress  suit." 

"  Have  you  ne\  er  gotten  in  trouble  about  these  myste- 
rious night  fares?" 

"  Once  only.  A  young  man  picked  me  up  on  Broadway 
and  took  me  way  over  to  Hoboken.  We  stopped  at  a  house 
from  which  a  young  woman,  all  muffled  up,  and  so  weak 
that  she  had  to  be  carried,  was  brought  out.  I  suspected 
something  wrong  then,  but  I  was  younger  than  I  am  new 
and  the  night  was  wasted,  and  I  resolved  to  stick  it  ouv. 
They  had  me  drive  to  a  place  in  Grand  street— a  disrepu- 
table-looking house,  with  a  light  burning  in  the  second- 
story  window.  I  got  a  glimpse  of  the  young  woman's  face 
as  the  young  man  and  an  old  lady  helped  her  out.  It  was 
pale  as  death.  She  turned  her  head,  and  seemed  to  look 
right  at  me  as  if  asking  for  aid.  An  old  wretch  in  a  skull- 
cap came  to  the  door  with  a  lamp. 

"  It  was  an  abortion  case,  of  course.  The  girl  died,  and 
when  they  advertised  for  the  hackman  I  drove  down  and 
gave  myself  up.  I  believe  that?  the  old  man  got  ten  years. 
The  young  one  jumped  the  town,  and  I  never  heard  of  his 
being  caught." 

He  old  me  a  great  many  more  curious  things;  how  an 
old  gray-bearded  man  took  him  at  Courtlandt  street  ferry 
once,  and  it  was  a  young,  smooth-faced  fellow  who  got 
out  at  the  Grand  Central  Depot,  where  he  had  been  told 
to  go. 

On  another  occasion  a  veiled  lady,  carrying  a  baby, 
hired  him  to  catch  the.  midnight  Washington  express.  He 
caught  it,  but  when  he  opened  the  door  the  woman  was 
missing,  and  the  baby,  tucked  up  in  a  corner,  was  all  that 
remained,  lie  turned  it  over  to  the  police.  The  woman 
must  have  jumped  out  while  he  was  going  at  fall  speed. 
In  the  case  of  the  old  man,  my  cabby  thinks  he  was  a 
criminal,  fleeing  from  justice,  who  used  the  cab  as  a 
dressing-room  in  Wh*r'i  to  remove  his  disguise. 


A  D  VERITSEM  EN  TS. 

taBMM 


>«i2r.-     "         "  »     +  %■     o^o-)^    y*&%/>^^.  >-~» ,         ^Q 


ESTABLISHED     1844. 

HAS    LONG     HELD     THE     LEADING     POSITION    IN     AMERICA    AS    TO    CHEAPNESS 

AND    HAVING     THE    LARGEST    AND    MOST     COMPLETE 

STOCK    TO    CH008E    FROM. 


DIAMONDS 


.STONES, 

■ 

Antiques, 


I 


Y/^ATCHES,    &C. 

Bric-a-Brac 


BUI     FOB     CASH,   AND    OO    MOTTO    IS  QUICK     HALES    AND    SMALL    TROFITS, 


925   BROADWAY, 


Between  2ist^  22D  Sts. 


j^ew  y 


ORK. 


AD  VERTlSEJiEXTS- 


JAMES  F.  SILO, 


ERAL  AUCTIONEER 


o£5    Liberty  Street, 

NEW    YORK. 
(FIEST  DOOR  FROM  NASSAU  STREET.) 


Particular  Attention  given  to  Sales  of    Furniture  and 
Merchandise,  at  Store  or  Private  Residences. 


BISM^VRCK  HALL 


No.    464    PEARL, 


Corner  Pearl  and  Chatham  Streets. 


titouceri  every  evening  at  7. .'Ml,  under  direction  of  Professor  Petersou. 


Fifty  Lady  Cashiers  in  Attendance. 


ADMISSION   FREE. 


A  D  VER  TI SEME  NTS. 


PICTORIAL   PRINTING! 


S^-TS^jA^LS^9"*"^ 


We  desire  to  call  the  attention  of  Hatters,  Barbers, 
Saloon  Keepers,  ahd  the  Advertising  Public  generally,  to  our 

NEW,  ATTRACTIVE  AND  COMIC  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

for  BUSINESS  CARDS,  CIRCULARS,  DODGERS,  HAND- 
BILLS, ETC. 

No  other  Job  Printing  Establishment  in  the  country 
can  furnish  such  a  variety  of 

ORIGINAL    WOOD    CUTS, 

Adapted  to  all  branches  of  business.     Parties  ^siring-  to  make 
' r- advertising  effective,  will  fine.   '         their  advan 
I  for  samples  and  priee-lis !  ill  be  furnish      '  ree  of 

.    Be  careful  when  wr  i  state  the  natu,  . .  i ness. 

MANHATTAN  STEAM  PRINTING  COMPANY, 

183  William  Street,   New  Yorjc. 
P.    O.     BOX    40. 


A  D  VER  TISEMEXTS. 


u 


J) 


A  Popular  Medical  Treatise, 

Clearly  explaining  the  hidden 
causes   which   sap   vitality  and   shorten   the 

DURATION    OF    LIFE, 

With  hints  for  the  removal  of  the  same,  show- 
ing how  overtaxed  powers  maybe 
fully  restored  and 

iistigus  to  uhmh  imcm. 


By   Mail,  Twenty-five   Cents. 


CUBBENCI   OB    POSTAGE    si  v.Mi's. 


Address    SEOPtEST-AJFLY, 
MUSEUM  OF  ANATOMY,   SCIENCE   AND   ART, 

489  Sixth  Avenue,  New  York. 


A  D  VER  TISEMK  XTS. 


FOOTLICHT  FAVORITES 

m  THE  PKESS  AND  WILL 

SHORTLY    BE    PUBLISHED 
Containing  Twenty-five  Large  and 

HOME  PORTRAIT!;  IN  Ml  COSTUME 

WITH    BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCHES 


OF  THE 


Leading  Actresses  of  America  and  Europe 

Price,    25    Cents, 

AND   3C.    FOR  POSTAGE. 

ALL  OB DEBS  TO  BE  SENT  TO 

R.IOHAPLD  !KL_  lE^OIX.,  lE^xilolislxor 

COR.  WILLIAM  AND  SPRUCE  STREETS, 

.    Box  40.  NEW   YORK. 


THE  TRADE  SUPPLIED  DIRECT  FROM  THE  PUBLISHER. 


•:     NATIONAL     POLICE    C  TE.     OF     NEW     YORK. 

\  i  i 


